Torchwood : Betrayal
by Corrinth
Summary: When Teya inadvertantly steps into the territory of the man who betrayed her so foully, but with whom she has an inexplicable connection, Jack finds himself with multiple murders and aliens on the loose. Constructive reviews appreciated! 1st Torchwood fi
1. Chapter 1

Story disclaimer: I own none of the following. Many of the references in this story are owed to the writers and the rest of the team(s) involved in the creation and production of Torchwood and Doctor Who. Without them, this story would not be possible. My character Teya owns me. I am making no money from this or any of my other fics posted on this site.

Author's Note: I forget how many times I have tried to write this story. I managed to get to about Chapter Thirteen on the last attempt, and then I decided to make life a whole lot more complicated for Jack, Teya and myself. So this is about attempt ten... aaaaaaaaaand action!

**Scene One** –** Torchwood Tower, London/ Torchwood Hub, Cardiff, 1999**

**Torchwood. Outside the government, beyond the police. Fighting for the future on behalf of the human race. The twenty-first century is when everything changes... And Torchwood is ready...**

_ The creature takes great offense to the weapon brandished at him, lunging at Captain Jack__ Harkness__ with fangs and poison stacked legs bared. Jack leaps away, somehow turning it into a remarkably acrobatic roll up on to one knee. He pauses merely a second to aim his gun before firing off several shots. The beast rises up onto its six rear-most legs, screaming indignantly and waving its deadly appendages. It meets Jack's eyes for several seconds, an ugly snarl on its face. It falls backwards... dead. Jack stops long enough to catch his breath, wired from the battle and celebrating his victory even when cleaning up the mess. The adrenaline of going toe-to-toe with an alien with eighteen poison-stacked legs, even for the man that can't be killed, is better than anything Jack had ever felt... well, almost anything. And now Jack is looking forward to having a well-deserved New Year drink with his team-mates. As soon as the clean-up is done, Jack heads back to the Hub._

She traveled with him, a mere echo of a thought in the back of his mind, and she knew what awaited him there. She always knew, even before he did, though she was sat alone in the very centre of her stark, white cell, with the bright lights echoing in her head. Knees hugged tight to her chest by thin, wasted arms. She rocked back and forth, wishing him not to go back there, not to go back to the place he called home that was choked with Death... Tears ran silently down her face as she anticipated his pain, eyes rolled upward into her skull. Greasy black hair was ruffled where her right hand gripped it occasionally. Her face was pale, cheeks sunken from years of captivity. She made no sound, not even a whimper, as scared by the visions as by the scene that awaited Jack.

_ He enters the Hub, laughing about the millennium bug he has just destroyed as he hangs up his military style coat. The Hub's silence fills him and he turns to call for them all. Two prone bodies greet him with deathly silence, lying where they have fallen. Jack draws his gun, wondering if the attacker is still in the Hub. How did it get in? Or out? He stoops to check the pulse of one of his companions, to no avail. The next is just as lifeless, blood on her blue sweater revealing that she died of a stomach wound. Jack is distraught, scared, until he looks up. A grey-haired man sits calmly on a stool watching the New Year chime in on the television, face aged beyond his years as he turns to look at Torchwood's indestructible operative. A shiver runs through Jack as he realizes that the man's eyes are filled with terror._

It was approaching midnight, New Year's Eve. Chaos had gripped London, as it had the world, and while most were preparing themselves for the biggest party ever to happen, banks and businesses the world over were preparing for the chaos that might ensue with the calendar turning from 99 to 00. Many folks were foretelling doom and gloom and the destruction of the Earth. Torchwood itself had very few concerns, for they saw the destruction of the Earth as imminent most days of the year. The turning of the millennium was nothing new or special to them. However, rumours of an eighteen-legged, insectoid alien, already being deemed the "millennium bug" on the loose in Cardiff were as yet unfounded and all that Torchwood London had to occupy them with. All was quiet on the alien front in London at least.

"_Jack," he acknowledges almost serenely, almost hiding the note of panic in his voice, "just in time." He looks back to the TV screen, a sad smile on his face._

"_Alex, what happened? Who did this?" Jack gestures wildly at the bodies on the floor from his crouch, looking up at his commander with glazed eyes, still confused and fearful._

"_Me." The word acknowledges so much and yet nothing at all._

"_What?" Jack gives a breathy laugh as if he can deny it, make it all into a joke; that the others will stand up and laugh it all off as some big, elegant (if a little twisted) New Year prank. He knows it isn't. "Why?"_

"_We got it wrong, Jack." Alex opens his hand to reveal a tiny, silver fob watch. He stares at it fearfully. "We thought we could control the stuff we found, and what's it brought us? So much death..." _

Terry Castleford paced down the block with apparent nonchalance, trying to ignore the obvious discomfort of his 'guests'. His taser, far more powerful than anything the police force carried and enough to take down the more-than-average alien, was at his belt, and his hand not far from it. The lighting was what passed for dimmed in the maximum security prison, though still bright enough to see the occupant of each cell clearly. The Weevils were pacing forward and back in their stark white cells, expressions always snarling at their jailer, rumbling their displeasure all the while. The guard, for a little amusement, stopped outside the cell of the Chameleon, who was a reflection of the guard as he stepped in front of the cell. On a good day, the Chameleon would match every movement, every pulled face and every sound. Today was not a good day. The Chameleon simply watched the guard's antics, one tanned hand pressed against the glass door of his cell, index and middle fingers curled through two of the nine air holes. Face ominous and turned upwards towards the celebrations going on above, which was exactly where Terry wanted to be.

"_What happened to them?" Jack isn't sure he wants to know. He knows that Alex's mind has been deeply affected by the alien device. But no matter what it did, or was doing, Jack knows that there is no going back from here._

"_It's good you're here. You always did have great timing. This place, it's yours. Torchwood three. My gift to you Jack, for a century of service as field operative. Give this place a purpose, before it's too late. Please."_

"_Alex, listen," Jack almost chokes on the tears that he refuses to shed, "it's__ gonna__ be okay..."_

At the far end of the block, on the opposite side of the run to the Chameleon, the Blowfish grunted. When it got no response, it shouted in bitten off words and guttural grunts that were all it was capable of in terms of speech thanks to too many run-ins with the taser. Terry left the Chameleon, drawing his taser and heading down to the Blowfish's cell. A wave of the taser was enough to quiet the alien fish, though he did gesture across from him. Terry sighed, glancing behind him and half expecting the Blowfish to try to make him jump by leaping at the glass. Instead, Terry saw what had disturbed the Blowfish.

"_No, it's not. It's really not. I looked inside. It showed me what's coming. They were mercy killings; it was the kindest thing I could do. So none of us see the storm. I'm sorry I can't do the same for you." Big Ben begins to strike midnight on the television set, the pop of London's fireworks causing Alex to pause for an instant. Jack opens his mouth to speak, but Alex sits up straighter, as if preparing himself for something. "Twenty-first century Jack, every thing's going to change... and we're not ready..."_

She was sat in the very centre of her stark, white cell, bright lights echoing in her head. Knees hugged tight to her chest by thin, wasted arms. She rocked back and forth, with tears running silently down her face from eyes that were rolled upward into her skull. Greasy black hair was ruffled where her right hand gripped it occasionally. Her face was pale, cheeks sunken from years of captivity. Terry knew that prisoner 5167 had these bouts once in a while, but no one was sure what brought them on. Numerous tests and interviews had been carried out, but her file stated simply that Prisoner 5167 was prone to bouts of insanity. Terry stood before her cell, wondering what the poor creature's mind was tormenting her with. His frown deepened as she let out a tiny mewl of distress...

"_ALEX!" _

She took a sudden, great, gasping breath. Her eyes rolled forward and clicked with Terry's. She felt him shiver involuntarily under the intensity of her gaze, though she was not seeing him at all. Her mind was frozen with the image of the blood spattering Jack's face, the disbelief in his eyes that he and his team could be so suddenly destroyed by one of their own. She felt the first tremour of shock shiver through Jack's body, the single gunshot still ringing in their ears…

(Roll credits...)


	2. Chapter 2

Story disclaimer: I own none of the following. Many of the references in this story are owed to the writers and the rest of the team(s) involved in the creation and production of Torchwood and Doctor Who. Without them, this story would not be possible. My character Teya owns me. I am making no money from this or any of my other fics posted on this site.

Author's Note: If you haven't seen the end of Season Two, go watch it before reading this, I do not want to spoil it for you! (And if you haven't, why the hell not?) Oh and a brief spoiler for Doctor Who Seasons 1 and 4.

**Scene Two** –** Cardiff, Present Day**

The setting of the Sun found Jack in his usual spot above a bustling Cardiff. He'd been coming here more and more frequently, trying to cope with the renewed fear that his recent rematch with the Daleks had instilled. The only creatures ever to truly kill him, if it hadn't been for Rose and the TARDIS... That was hard enough, without trying to contain his growing grief over the loss of two great friends and close companions. It had been comforting at first, being with Gwen and Ianto in their joint grief, each using the others as a crutch to keep them going minute by minute, hour by hour. But slowly, as the shrunken Torchwood team was forced to cover the gaping wounds in their midst; Ianto studying the rift programs that Tosh had written and Jack and Gwen's first aid training - so pathetic compared to Owen's medical skills – the three were being drawn apart. Gwen was spending more and more time away from the Hub, as dedicated to her job as ever but less willing to spend time away from Rhys. Ianto was as solicitous as ever, always hovering near Jack but unwilling to break into his partner's stern visage. It had taken more effort than ever for Jack to persuade Ianto that all he really wanted was to be alone, and eventually Jack had simply grabbed his coat and walked out of the Hub, leaving Ianto staring miserably after him.

Though hollowed by grief, Jack knew that he needed to hire another technical expert and a new medic. He refused to look on it as replacing Tosh and Owen. No-one could do that. His automatic reaction, especially after the latest bout with the Daleks, was to persuade Martha Jones to rejoin the team. He'd started the moment they had left the TARDIS, but so far she was, as ever, immune to his charm and wiles. He shook his head ever so slightly, lifting his chin in defiance of the wind that caused his military style coat to billow out behind him and dug his hands into his pockets, preferring to face the chilling wind over Ianto's haunted but needy expression. What Jack needed was something new and exciting, something that dared to try and make the man who couldn't die feel, even for the briefest moment, _alive_.

The night grew darker and colder as time passed, but Captain Jack Harkness refused to be driven inside. He watched without emotion as the night unfolded before him, watched as the people changed from commuters rushing home to be with their families to young people heading out for a typical Friday night's gallivanting. And as they gradually got more inebriated, the good-natured laughter became good old fashioned slanging matches that had yet to develop into punch-ups. It was better than TV; he had to admit whilst observing it all. Did any of them know he was watching over them, that the Torchwood team fought day after day for their survival against the thousands of races that might drift through the rift, which might invade their lives at any moment? Did they know what had been sacrificed for them, just how high the cost of a safe Earth had been? He knew the answer well enough.

A warning message in his ear piece broke his train of thoughts, causing him to turn away from the entertainment that was Cardiff's night-life and head back inside. The Pterodactyl screeched a greeting from far above as he entered the Hub via its robust, circular door. He looked about for Ianto, but it seemed that the Welshman had finally taken the hint and gone home. Jack allowed himself a self-critical grimace; he knew there would be hell to pay in the morning... Intrigued as to what might have set of the tracking alarm, he jogged to Tosh's station – he still thought of it as hers - and hit a few buttons, flinging himself back into her chair and letting his chin fall into his right hand, rubbing his chin a little as he let the computer bring up the data that had disturbed him.

The computer registered the strange signal as that of an escaped Torchwood prisoner. Jack frowned at that. No creature had escaped from Torchwood Cardiff in the century that Jack had been working there, at least not for long... He set the computer to matching known escaped prisoners from all Torchwood sites to the frequency of the one approaching Cardiff. It took several minutes, enough for Jack to make himself a coffee. He took a sip as he headed back to the computer, grimacing slightly. It wasn't a bad cup; it's just that Ianto's was so much better. The computer once again took his mind of Ianto, as it flashed up that it had confirmed a match. As far as the computer was concerned, there was no doubt as to the origin of the signal. Jack pressed a button on the keyboard to bring up the file, and almost wished he hadn't...

His jaw dropped as he recognized the file in front of him... He didn't need the name, planet of origin, and species. All it took was the prisoner number, 5167, but the face was so familiar. He reached out to touch the screen, the LCD screen reacting to his touch by distorting the image slightly. He'd given her up for dead after the Battle of Canary Wharf... four years ago... How could she still be alive? What had brought her back to Cardiff? A thousand questions pummeled him. What was she doing there? Was she looking for him? The last made him laugh aloud, the sound booming as it echoed about the empty Hub. Her last words to him had been adamant, something along the lines of "If I never see you again it will be too soon" but with enough expletives to turn the air between them blue. He watched as the signal paused, then crept onward again, paused, then moved on once more, creeping steadily ever closer to the centre of Cardiff. She was hunting… but hunting what? Jack raised his head enough to rest his chin on his knuckles, content to wait for now to see what came of it.

"Good to see you again kiddo."


	3. Chapter 3

Story disclaimer: I own none of the following. Many of the references in this story are owed to the writers and the rest of the team(s) involved in the creation and production of Torchwood and Doctor Who. Without them, this story would not be possible. My character Teya owns me. I am making no money from this or any of my other fics posted on this site.

**Scene Three** –** Cardiff, 1905**

It was late for some, early for others, and as always she was up long before the Sun scrubbing down the great, oak tables to remove the remnants of last night's ale before it could stain too badly. Washing tankard after tankard and preparing the kitchen for another day's work. She had paused long enough at the start of her day to sweep the ashes from the cold grate and to set a small fire. It had kindled quickly, burning with far more light that heat, but then that had been its purpose. She knew that if she had lit the expensive tapers in the wall sconces then she would have been beaten black and blue, just as she would be if her chores were not done before the Master and Mistress rose to greet the day. And yet she would pause for a moment, now and again, to stare into the flames. Just for a moment to dream.

When she closed her eyes, she was home. She could become lost in the rich sights and scents of the great stone corridors of the castle, surrounded by the rolling wildflower fields. The crackle of the tiny fire at her feet was the fire in the Great Hall, the rumble of ominous thunder that threatened rain was but the rumble of her father's deep laughter; the breeze through the cracked window pane became the tornado of her brothers rushing past lost in their tussling. Even the shrieks of the landlady at her idle day-dreaming were merely the sharp remarks of her tutor, or the constant nag of Cook as she instructed her team in the preparing of meals as she and her brothers had rushed through, pilfering bits of newly-baked bread... All of that was gone now.

A swift blow to the ear was enough to send her staggering sideways and to call her back to the present. She sprang for the kitchen, eager to avoid another blow and escape the tirade that already followed her. She set water on to boil for her Master and their guests, then set to peeling and chopping vegetables, but only after scraping her hair back into a warrior tail, binding it with a leather thong to secure it as befit her people. It was a vanity that was all she had left of her pride and would no doubt earn her another clout about the head for revealing her delicately pointed but very abnormal ears. Oh yes, Aranteya Voranalagrect Celentura knew her place very well. By her count, and by Earth's calendar, she was thirteen years old and living in darkness.

She was serving food and drink to the evening's clients when she set eyes on Jack Harkness for the first time. The door opened violently, thrown wide by the storm. He stood there for a dramatic moment, lightening silhouetting his shape in the doorway before he entered the inn. He took off his long military cloak as she sprang to close the door, keeping in the precious heat and locking the autumn weather out. She took the cloak from him, eyes always downcast, feeling it's soft but dense texture and knowing it was of the best quality. He thanked her quietly; unlike any other man because it was without a hint of a sneer, and something in his voice dared her to meet his eyes. And unlike any other man, he neither gasped, nor stared wide-eyed, nor gave any sign of disgust. In fact, he smiled at her.

All evening she watched the strange soldier furtively. He drank but little, paying his way but all the while being solicitously hovered over by the landlady who was hoping to wring more than just a few coins from him. He played along, offering outrageous compliments along with his tips. Stretched languorously in his seat by the fire, he watched the girl more openly as she moved amongst the patrons, lithely avoiding groping hands, and dealing firm slaps to those that managed to get too close, along with coy smiles and unsubtle winks to keep the guests happy.

"You like her?" Her Master asked the soldier at one point. "She's yours if you want her, for a price."

A moment's disgust flashed across his face at that, the expression come and gone so quickly that she doubted that anyone without her sharp eyes would have seen it. Just as quickly, she felt an instant of annoyance – most men found her a comely young serf – then her eyes met his from across the room and suddenly she understood that it was the offer and not her that repulsed him.

"Maybe." He replied quietly, though she saw him mouth the word rather than heard him speak it. She dodged another hand, deftly filling the man's mug before its owner could refuse, and forcing him to give her a copper instead of a quick feel. Suddenly she hoped that if she was to be given to any man tonight, it would be the soldier by the fire, but after all, she owed it to her master and mistress to earn her keep after they had so thoughtfully taken her in as a young girl. She was told so often enough.

"Better claim her quickly." Her master was advising the soldier sagely; in a voice loud enough to be addressed to those favoured enough to be sitting close to the fire. "Before another man does."

"I'll think on it."

He didn't, not even for an instant. Prostitution repulsed Jack Harkness, even though he knew it was more prolific in this time than most. He had been told time and again that for a one-time con-man he had a remarkable set of morals. Besides, he was there to watch the girl, not sleep with her, no matter how attractive she was. No, Jack was here to assess whether the alien girl's danger level, to assess whether the Everlarth was a danger to the human race. He chuckled, more to himself than at the land lord's joke, because so far she just looked like she was enslaved by these humans, jumping to the demands of both customers and her masters. But what caught Jack the most was her eyes. When their gazes met, Jack could see the stars shining in her deep amber eyes. Underneath her oppression, behind the mask that her job demanded, was a spark of life that not even this fate could hide. Little did Jack know that, in the distant future, he would be the reason for that spark to gutter and die.

Yet Jack knew the job was not yet done, and so, when another man claimed the girl to warm his bed, Jack requested a room for the night. He was forced to pay through the nose for little more than a lice-ridden mattress and a chamber pot, which was all the more galling because he suspected that he wouldn't be getting much use out of the bed. But for now he stayed in his chair, enjoying the ale which was surprisingly pleasant. It wasn't very often that his tasks were warm, dry and so easy.

When the girl and her client, a rich enough gentleman with all the signs of his wealth – stout figure and port-red cheeks - began to show signs of leaving the inn's main room, him finishing his drink whilst she kneaded his shoulders and avoided his sweaty palms, though Jack suspected that this was more due to reflex than intent. He longed to sweep her up and claim her for himself, but Jack settled himself to making a great show of his tiredness. Yawning widely and half-reluctantly accepting a final mug of ale for which the land-lord refused payment as a gesture of good will, Jack waited for his moment.

He did not leave as soon as they did, he could not afford to be that obvious lest the master of the house think that he was after the girl for himself or worse, should figure out exactly what Jack Harkness' mission was; he gave them a good half an hour before he retired. Let the girl give the Lord a good time, after all, before he headed for his own room. Hearing from the room next door the grunts of the patron having a good time, Jack relaxed a little. It was only when, ten minutes later, the sound of silence intruded upon him, Jack chose to take action.

Jack produced a small hand-gun, as far out of that time as its owner, every hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he listened intently. His back pressed against the wall by the side of the door, gun raised in a typical Jack pose, Jack could feel the rough stone catching on his coat and even the coolness of the wall. But he could hear nothing, and so he turned sharply, giving the door a good swift kick. The door burst open and Jack stormed through, almost recoiling in his disgust at what he saw. She was feeding from the man, both as naked as babes, her mouth fixed on his wrist as she sucked the blood from his veins. Her amber eyes met Jack's and she stopped feeding to give him a smile laced with both pleasure and blood.

"You can put your gun away." She assured him, running her tongue about her lips with an air of finality. "I've no intention of killing him, he's a regular... he puts the food on my table if you will." She placed the talon-like nail of her index finger against the pad of her thumb, drawing a drop of her own blood. She took the man's hand long enough to dab the blood on the cut on his wrist from which she had been feeding, and Jack watched in growing astonishment as the cut began to heal. The girl rose without shame, crossing to Jack, who watched her closely, still on edge. She was tall, almost as tall as him, and lean, her curves perfect, her hair bound back to reveal her daintily pointed ears...

Jack knew a moment's shock as she reached out to run her hands through his hair, the pulled him close as she kissed him hungrily. Feeling his body respond, Jack kissed her in return, his warm hands running the length of her spine, her skin cool against his. She hooked a foot about his ankle, her curves pressing into his body. The moment was electric, and both gave an involuntary shiver. Pulling away to catch her breath, she took Jack's hands in hers and led him next door to his bed. Jack uttered not a word of protest, merely followed her as if both had been waiting for this moment all their lives. Besides, Jack had a feeling that their lives would be entwined for decades to come...


	4. Chapter 4

Story disclaimer: I own none of the following. Many of the references in this story are owed to the writers and the rest of the team(s) involved in the creation and production of Torchwood and Doctor Who. Without them, this story would not be possible. My character Teya owns me. I am making no money from this or any of my other fics posted on this site.

Author's Note: This has been one of the hardest chapters to write. I know where I what it to go, I just can't seem to get it there. Still, here goes... Sorry Teya!

**Scene Four** –** Cardiff, 1910**

Jack was back in a dull and rainy Cardiff after his latest mission for Torchwood. He had requested an evening off. It was rare enough for him to have time to himself, and he'd set out walking without a particular destination in mind. His traitorous feet carried him to the road on which he had found friendship and contentment in the last five years. Jack recognised her the moment he saw her lying in the gutter not far from where they had first met. He couldn't say what it was that made him realise it was her, he just knew. She was lying curled in on herself, shivering in the rain and being resolutely ignored by the gentry on the street. To them she was just another beggar, another street urchin, an eighteen year old girl long past marrying age and not worth spitting on. Jack, having known her on and off for five years, knew better.

He crouched beside her and gently reached out to her. She groaned, flinching from his touch but unable to resist as he gripped the top of her arm with one hand and lifted her chin with the other. He gasped at the state of her, her face black and blue, blood running in sheets down her face as the rain diluted it. She was barely conscious; her eyes that were nearly swollen shut were lifeless and empty. He looked at her with pity for a few moments, watched an answering smile flicker on her face as she recognised him. Jack removed his cloak and spreading it over her. In one gentle movement, he scooped her up in his arms and bore her away, ignoring the disapproving looks of those around him. Let them look, he thought, let them see that one man could not ignore their cruelty.

Teetering on the edge of darkness, she thought she recognised the face of the shadow crouching over her. She wasn't sure if it really was Jack or if she had finally succumbed to weakness and sunk into a delusion. But when his hand gripped her arm, confident but gentle, she knew that the blue eyes gazing into hers were really his. That rich, warm, enticing scent couldn't belong to anyone else. It stirred her into wakefulness as he covered her with his cloak. She curled up as he lifted her, content to let him take her away from that place, as far away as he could take her. She trusted him, trusted him because no other man had ever afforded her the respect and gentleness that Jack had shown her.

She moaned a little has he carried her, every step jolting aches and bruises. Her broken ribs were unknown to Jack, and every pace was to risk a punctured lung for her, but she would rather have died in his arms than lying in the street. In his simple act of claiming her, Jack had offered her a warmth and security that she had not felt since the times before. But that warmth was overrun by stabbing pains, each one peppered with a thousand burning needles. Each hurt shot like lightning bolts through her body and each breath was agony. Jack rearranged his grip on her as gently as he could, trying to ignore her groans of protest. It was too much for her broken body, and as he carried her she descended into the darkness that had threatened for so long…

Jack watched over her as she slept in his bed, having bathed her with a natural gentleness that people were not accustomed to in the man who could not die. Her sleep was deep, too deep for Jack's liking, but by the time she came to, her ribs were healed, though tender. The bruises on her face were beginning to fade, and the pain was considerably lessened. But by then Jack had noticed her hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically, as well as a definitive grumble from her stomach. He knew she was an Everlarth, knew she fed on blood and felt a moment's concern. As sick as she was… how was she supposed to feed? When she finally opened her eyes, he'd already come up with the obvious answer. He offered her his blood.

She fed with an eagerness that he should have expected. Her body craved the necessary ingredients to fuel her healing, but even in her hunger, he felt her holding back. She did not look at him as she fed, as if ashamed that she required this from him. Jack offered no resistance, resting with his elbow on the pillow and offering up the other wrist to her mouth. It was a strange, drawing sensation as she drank. An act so intimate that Jack was stirred more than he believed possible. He curled the arm he was leaning on, brushing her cheek gently, a feather light touch on her fever warmed skin. That movement was enough to make her pull away from him, deliberately distancing herself from him as she healed the wound to his wrist to stop the blood flow.

"Thanks." The shortened word reminded him of just how out of their time the two of them where, though he wasn't sure exactly when and where she came from. "Jack…"

"Hush, Teya. No need for thanks." He answered softly, watching as she lay down again. Within moments she was fast asleep again, a healing sleep with her breathing deep and even, and Jack watched as the last of her superficial injuries healed. Tired himself from the blood loss, he lay next to her, letting her shift closer in to his body. He was somehow grateful for her trust, and closed his eyes to rest and recuperate.

He stirred later when he felt dampness against his skin. Gently lifting himself away from her to disturb her as little as possible, Jack looked at her to find her sweating profusely. She curled up when his body heat left her, shivering feverishly. Her face was cherry red, her skin cold and damp. Even as Jack frowned in concern, she began to moan and shudder in pain, though strangely there was an element of confusion as her face screwed up into a frown. He watched as she began to thrash wildly, arms lashing out. Several times in just a few minutes Jack found himself holding her down in order to stop her hurting herself.

"Vortex…" The word was uttered quietly, but Jack gasped when he heard it. "Can't… fight… the Bad Wolf…"

The words "Bad Wolf" echoed in Jack's mind, and for a moment he felt her fever, saw as if through her mind's eye two glowing yellow eyes, eyes that Jack had seen in his own mind in the instant that he had taken a shocking, gasping breath after being killed by the Daleks, the first and only time he had truly died. Drawn back from the darkness by something with glowing yellow eyes… Was that why he had been so attracted to Teya from the first? Was she somehow responsible for his immortality?

"Vortex in the blood…" For hours, Teya continued to ramble to herself, continued to thrash back and forth as she mumbled and moaned about "the Vortex", "time" and the "Bad Wolf". Jack, knowing that no medic would be able to help him and not trusting anyone at Torchwood, could do nothing more than mop her brow, hold her down when she thrashed most violently, and muttered comforting words. He was half-convinced she would die there in his bed within half an hour of her delusions beginning. His opinion only went from bad to worse as time passed.


	5. Chapter 5

Story disclaimer: I own none of the following. Many of the references in this story are owed to the writers and the rest of the team(s) involved in the creation and production of Torchwood and Doctor Who. Without them, this story would not be possible. My character Teya owns me. I am making no money from this or any of my other fics posted on this site.

Author's Note : Eugh, another chapter I have hated writing. It has been very difficult not only to get Jack's balance but Teya's as well. I can't figure out how mad she would be at Jack… and how badly she would be affected by her experiences. Hmmm….

**Scene Five - Cardiff, Present Day**

The bouncer of the bar was looking down lighting a cigarette when the woman who would become the most troublesome patron that night turned up. At first all he saw was a pair of scruffy black boots and slightly mudded boot cut black jeans. A harsh voice asked him for a light, which he offered as his gaze swept up to reveal a woman of average height, with an ample cleavage though it was hidden by a high-necked top, sleeveless. She lit her cigarette from his proffered lighter, head tilted to one side and eyes half closed. She turned away from him awkwardly, as if in pain, stood facing the street cursing the new anti-smoking laws. He watched her intently, eyes focusing on her slightly pointed ears and smiled. She looked like a rock-elf with her ears, spiked black hair, her black outfit and the tattoo that emblazoned the top of her arm, contrasting sharply with the whiteness of her skin. It was a T shape formed of hexagons with the number 5167 running across the top. He pondered on the significance as she flicked the stub of her cigarette away, but the somehow saddened look on her face discouraged him from asking any questions on the subject. With a grateful smile, she turned to go inside.

It was then that he caught sight of her eyes, unique in their yellow colouring. They flashed with an inner fire as she smiled her thanks at him as he opened the door for her. The bouncer watched her closely as she made her way to the bar, lithely avoiding contact with anyone. She had a certain predatory grace about her; it was like watching a lioness moving through the deep grasses of the plains of Africa. Something about her parted the crowds; she commanded the room without being the centre of attention. He lost her as the crowds merged again, but he suspected she would not have to wait long at the bar to be served.

Teya had ordered a pint of lager within moments of arriving at the bar, earning her scowls of annoyance from the women who had been waiting impatiently in the queue. The men merely appraised her, and did not begrudge the woman being served first. She drank it down in one go, earning whistles of appreciation from those around her. Back in the familiar setting of a bar, she offered a subtle wink to the male patrons nearest her. She accepted a drink from the man nearest her, a group of them moving away from the bar at the managements request to make room for other customers at the bar. Within minutes, she had drinks lined up for her, offers from various men, and she drank with the best of them. Light conversation passed between them, her dry humour making her companions laugh. The evening passed more pleasantly than she had expected… until she rose to leave.

Could her day have gone any worse? It had started out well enough, tracking a Weevil through the streets of the outskirts of Cardiff. Tracking one was challenging, but offered little risk to herself, but the damn thing had gathered company as they had approached Cardiff proper, leaving her with a gash across her lower belly stretching from bottom the right side of her rib cage to just below her belly button. She was lucky, she supposed, that it hadn't been deeper, and that she hadn't been injured further. A large, black SUV with chasing blue lights on the verticals of the windscreen had come screeching round the corner, obviously in pursuit of something, sending the Weevils scattering with low pitched yowls of fear that sent shivers through her spine. Cursing her loss, she'd made her way back to her vehicle where she'd patched herself up, changed her top and grabbed enough cash to get her good and drunk and headed here.

Unsteady on her feet, thanks to the vast quantity of alcohol she had consumed, she staggered towards the exit. One over-stretched pace caused her to trip over her own feet. Trying to right herself, her momentum carried her a little too far. She collided with a woman dressed far more gaudily and sluttish than herself, who immediately began a tirade of how she should be more careful. With a swift apology and shaking her head, the woman in black turned away, heading for the door once more. A ring-laden hand grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back and wrenching her stomach wound, pain shooting through her belly like red hot pokers. Hissing with her agony, she snarled a warning at her attacker, and then ducked as a right-hook flew towards her. Her yellow eyes flashed angrily, lips curling in a snarl as she retaliated, kicking out with her foot and sweeping her opponent's feet out from underneath her.

The bouncer was on her in a second, pinning her arms behind her back and turning her towards the door. She moaned again as streaks of fire lashed through her stomach right through to her toes and finger tips, crying out in agony as the bouncer threw her to the floor outside. The woman she had been fighting with landed ten metres to her right with similar force. For a moment she did not move, eyes clenched tight against the pain. Then, knowing she was about to throw up, she raised herself slowly onto her hands and knees, retching up the alcohol she had so hastily consumed. Unable to move further, she hugged herself and moaned softly in self-pity. Not much registered for several minutes, other than the pain and vaguely heard threats from the bouncers of the bar that if she didn't shift herself they'd be calling the old bill, and did she want to spend the night in a cell?

"Don't worry yourselves." A new voice entered the mix, American accent, sounding horribly smug. She opened her eyes to see to black boots stood just ahead of her, navy trousers and the hem of a long blue coat. The owner of the voice offered her a hand as he assured them "I'll take care of her now."

"_Captain_ Jack Harkness..." The words were muttered darkly through dry lips as she raised herself to her feet, spitting away from him in disgust. She straightened herself, glaring him in the eye, even as she took a few fearful paces backwards. "If I'd have known this was still your neighbourhood..."

"Ah but you didn't." Jack smiled his most charming smile. "C'mon, Teya, let's get you cleaned up..."

"I don't need your help, _Captain_," she stressed the term, as if unwilling to call him by his first name, "I don't want anything to do with you."

"But you'll want my help when you see what I'm offering." He offered her an arm and a disarming grin. She stared at his arm as if she had never seen one before. Jack sighed. "Teya, I'm not gonna hurt you. Please trust me..."

"How can I?" Her voice quivered as she took yet another pace backwards, though her face lost none of its defiance.

"I can help you, Teya. I made a mistake. One day I'll ask your forgiveness, but for today, let me help you." For a moment she just looked darkly at him, but he could see the pain she was in flashing in her yellow eyes. He also saw what it cost her to clutch at him, accepting his help and support, what little pride and dignity she'd had left leeching from her as she bent forward to protect her stomach. Jack forced himself not to give in to his fear for her, ambling away from the bar at a pace that was comfortable for her and letting the bouncers think that there was nothing more wrong with her than an overdose of alcohol.

She muttered curses at him with every step; he had expected that, pleased to see that his old friend had lost none of her fire. If she could waste energy spitting obscenities at him then her wound, though painful, couldn't be too bad. When they rounded a corner, reaching the SUV, she stopped dead, glaring at him again. She turned to him, ignoring the agony that she caused herself as she wrenched herself away from him. "You bastard! It was you! You chased the Weevils off! You cost me a meal!"

"Oh yeah, coz you were gonna beat off a dozen Weevils long enough to grab a snack!" Jack lost his temper a little, sick of her ungrateful attitude. "Trust me, I'll get you a meal."

"You know you're no good to me, Jack, we've been through this before. It wasn't pleasant for either of us." Mollified, Teya hung her head a little.

"For once in your damned life will you just trust me?" He clicked the locks on the SUV with his remote, then threw the passenger door open for her before walking round to the driver's side. He opened his door and climbed in. After waiting a moment as she pondered her options, he encouraged her with a simple "Are you coming?"


	6. Chapter 6

Story disclaimer: I own none of the following. Many of the references in this story are owed to the writers and the rest of the team(s) involved in the creation and production of Torchwood and Doctor Who. Without them, this story would not be possible. My character Teya owns me. I am making no money from this or any of my other fics posted on this site.

Author's Note:

**Scene Six – Cardiff, 1910 **

_He was playing on the beach with Gray and his father, centuries in the future. They were playing ball in the late evening, the Sun setting over the beach. They all knew it was past time for bed, but none of them wanted to stop. He wanted to pause time, wanted the evening to last forever, wanted the laughter and the happiness never to end. _She knew how it would end, even before he did. _He was running, always running, his hand clutching Gray's tightly. Then suddenly, his hand was empty… "Gray! Gray, where are you!"_

_ He was dancing. He was dancing on the bow of a Chula warship in front of Big Ben while __war planes__ dropped bombs on London, in a war that would not happen for thirty years. He danced with a beautiful girl and whispered sweet nothings in her ear about another warship. Tempting her to make a deal. _She knew it wasn't a warship, knew it was an ambulance filled with nano-genes that had caused chaos in London, knew of the empty child that followed them everywhere. He was a con-man?

_He was fighting a war of his own, backed-up by humans. Fighting iron monsters that glided about a dark place, with single eye-stalks and two stunted arms, one of which was a laser gun. They terrified him with their metallic war cry as they hunted the defenders through the space-station, crying the same word over and over again… "Exterminate!" _It was then that she saw the Bad Wolf… the two eyes glowing with an aura of golden light. Jack had no idea who or what the Bad Wolf was, he only knew it had saved his life. No, more, it had returned his life to him. And he knew that his friends had abandoned him, left him behind to waste away on that hell hole.

Teya woke alone.

She woke with a nauseous taste in her mouth, and a fuzzy edge to her vision that made her aware that she'd been sick. Her head felt heavy and closed, she could barely lift her head. She searched her memory for where she was, and how she'd got there, but could not fathom it. All she could find were memories of Jack, of his childhood, his life. She knew all the poignant moments in his life, some that he treasured and others that he despised. She knew of the emotions he attached to each one. She knew Jack, the depth of a man complicated by loves and losses, by his life as a child and the death of his father and loss of his brother, his glamorous life as a poster boy, the danger and thrill of his life as a Time Agent, the calming of finding a place where he truly belonged and the gut wrenching moment when his friends had left him behind. She knew the phenomenal knowledge that he had died time after time and still lived; knew the harrowing pain of being dragged back into this existence from the darkness. She knew the anger he felt that he had been so chosen, and the fear of knowing that anyone he became close to would grow old and die, while he lived on. More than that, she knew that Jack dreaded becoming a shell, because every time he died he lost a shard of his humanity…

Teya wanted nothing more than for it to stop; it was too much. The surge of his memories and emotions washing through her and crashing over her, she could have drowned in it. She inwardly recoiled from her own emotional response to it all… Empathy for his losses, pity for the lonely poster boy who lived a glamourous life, but wanted nothing more than to find his brother, a rush of adrenaline and kinship for the hunter in the Time Agent, hatred for the despicable con-man he had become. The relief of knowing that there was a place for him in the universe, but she did not understand the image of a blue box not much bigger than a coffin that Jack associated with comfort and space. There was so much sadness and anger for the man he was now, alone in a world that he would never escape. Too much, too many memories, thoughts and emotions… How had this happened?

His blood… She'd drunk from his blood, absorbed his memories. It happened that way sometimes for her kind, although she had never been particularly prone to the phenomenon. There must be something about Jack, she supposed, something about his fifty-first century blood. Before feeding from him, Teya had come across Jack a few times; he always returned to her for friendship and companionship when he was lonely, told her it was because they were both out of their time and place. She'd never understood what he'd meant… now she knew far too well.

Sitting up made her nauseous again, and she clutched at her stomach, screwing her eyes shut and silently refusing to throw up. She was pleased to find no pain from her ribs or anywhere else. Her feed from Jack, however feverish and sick it had made her, had obviously provided enough goodness for her body to heal itself. Jack! Where was he? Had he nursed her through her sickness? Or had he fed her and abandoned her there?

"You're awake." As if summoned by her thought, Jack walked into the room. He was smiling, more in relief than happiness.

"Mmmm." Teya stood up carefully, turning to look at Jack through narrowed eyes, as if seeing him for the first time, desperately trying to ignore the different, conflicted emotions that coursed through her as she saw him.

"What?" He was perturbed by her sudden scrutiny; Teya had never openly watched him before.

"Just glad to see you." She answered, a tired smile on her face, without looking directly at him. His answering smile was pure Hollywood, and she knew in that moment how worried he had been about her. Even if she hadn't, it would have been communicated in the way he crossed the room and held her in a fierce embrace. Teya held him in return, but with far less strength. Jack drew back, his hands gripping the tops of her arms.

"I thought for a while that we'd lost you." He smiled at her, his relief still obvious. "I think something in me made you sick…"

"It happens sometimes." She couldn't tell him the truth. How could she tell him that she knew every dark secret, every intimate moment of his life? She felt like a spy, like she'd been eavesdropping on his entire life.

Jack took her avoidance as her embarrassment. Her inability to look him in the eye convinced him that she was ashamed of drinking from him. He held her again, as if his closeness could convince her that he held no grudge or resentment toward her. He chuckled as her stomach growled, growing into laughter as she shrugged out of his grasp, obviously embarrassed. He'd already thought about her feeding, aware that she was unlikely to want to drink from him again.

"Sorry." The word came out as a giggle, his laughter catching her by surprise but making her want to laugh with him.

"No problem." He left the room for a moment, and then returned with clean clothing for her. She washed and dressed, already feeling better. Her astute Everlarth mind was already filing Jack's life away into categories and sub-categories. She would know him forever, his memories would always be a part of her, but his life was no longer a tidal wave threatening to sweep her away.


	7. Chapter 7

Story disclaimer: I own none of the following. Many of the references in this story are owed to the writers and the rest of the team(s) involved in the creation and production of Torchwood and Doctor Who. Without them, this story would not be possible. My character Teya owns me. I am making no money from this or any of my other fics posted on this site.

Author's Note : I hate this chapter, it serves a purpose, but it doesn't flow properly... ah well...

**Scene Seven – Cardiff, 1910**

Teya lay in Jack's arms, all her hungers sated and wounds healed. Though she was still struggling to process all her knowledge of Jack, when he had made the usual advances, she had accepted. She saw no need to resist, understood his hunger for companionship now more than ever, and accepted that his need was so similar to her own. Her head was resting in the curve of his shoulder, and the only movement either of them made was Jack occasionally kissing her forehead tenderly. There was silence between them, other than their breathing which was gradually slowing. There were many thoughts running through Teya's mind. Her sense of fairness led her to feel guilty that she now knew so much about Jack, yet he knew virtually nothing about her, but where to begin? She sighed.

"What's wrong?"

"I was just wondering if my father is still alive." The words came out before she could stop them. Her thoughts had been on him, on his life. Later, when she was alone again, she would come to realise that it was a desire to share with him something of herself and her past. Giving up something that she has stolen from him...

"Your father?" Despite himself, Jack was intrigued. Teya was rarely forth coming about her life, and not wanting to give anything away about himself, he didn't care to ask too many questions of the subject. "Was he ill when you left?"

"No." There was a sadness in her tone that made Jack hold her tighter. She turned onto her side, momentarily burying her face in his chest. She looked up into Jack's eyes and made her decision. "He was being hunted by a rival clan. He'd already had three attempts on his life, my mother and brothers had already been killed, and he was so scared that I would be murdered as well… But I'm jumping into the middle of the story. If you want, I'll tell it from the beginning?

"I was born in darkness. There was a great storm, the night of my birth, and my mother was in terrible pain. The… shaman is probably the closest term you have… had already decreed that I would be born into a realm of darkness. My father, determined that I would be born into light, despite her claims, had fed my mother's room with torches and a great fire in the fireplace. My mother moaned about the heat and light, saying it was all too much, and eventually persuaded my father to decrease the number of torches in the room to two, one either side of the fireplace, and to let the great fire in the hearth burn to glowing coals. It was pure chance that moments before I was born, one of the serfs tending my mother spilt a bowlful of water as she tripped over the rug. The fire was out, and seconds later a great wind slammed the window open, dousing the torches. I was born before they could be relit, as the shaman predicted, in darkness. My name Aranteya Voranalagrect Celentura means Child Born Lost in a Century of Darkness.

"My people consider it terrible luck for a child to be named so, but the shaman was determined. My father threatened her, cursed her, and eventually turned her out of the castle when she refused to change the name. It was more fitting than my father knew, but for the first few years of my life no ill luck occurred. My mother was blessed again, with three boys. The castle was filled with the sounds of young children laughing and tussling. My brothers would wait for me to finish my lessons, and the moment I entered the great hall they would ambush me. I would be studying and they would run past, upsetting my inks and paints so that I would have to begin all over again. It made me so angry! But I loved my brothers, and could never stay angry for long. My father was preparing for me to rule our territory after him, and patience was one of the things he taught me well.

"One day, my father received a message from one of his commanders that an enemy was preparing to declare war. It was the family of the shaman who named me. It turns out she was a black sheep from a very rich and powerful family who were angered by her working in my father's territory. Once she crawled back to them with her story, they accepted her feud with my father… and prepared for war.

"My father had three attempts made on his life – one was an attack whilst he was out hunting, another was an attempt to slit his throat in his sleep. He survived both, thanks to some quick thinking by his guards, and a knife under his pillow. The third attempt was poisoning. An assassin dosed a stew with tarlafan leaf."

She paused in her story, once again burying his head in Jack's chest. He held her close, wondering why she was suddenly so open, but somehow glad that she was. Her story was obviously hard to tell, and he was prepared to wait to hear it all. When she spoke next, her voice was slightly muffled because she did not raise her head. He stroked her back gently, planting a kiss on the top of her head. "The stew killed many. My family, their guards and their serfs…. Nearly fifty people died… including my mother and brothers. My father had an upset that day, he ate a little and became sick, but his previous sickness prevented him ingesting much of the poison. I was lucky, I undergoing a fasting ritual with a few of the religious order. We emerged to a castle ravaged by sickness and death.

"My father had been intent on sending my brothers and I somewhere safe from the moment war had been threatened. A few days after the poisoning of our family, my father's remaining guards caught the assassin. My father tortured him terribly – the screams echoed from the dungeon up to the top of the tallest tower. Eventually, the man told of a rift, a rift that could send people far away, across space and time.

"According to the assassin, no one else knew of this rift. My father chose not to believe him, but he screamed the words, pitifully and pleading, right until the end. That was when my father decided that the only way to keep me safe was to send me through the rift."

"And you agreed?" Jack was incredulous.

"Of course not! I didn't want to leave my father. I wanted to stay and mourn my family, to fight our enemies alongside him. He was having none of it, of course, what did I expect? Our family was reduced to my father and I, plus a few serfs. He dosed me with a sleeping draught. It was the only way he could move me. I woke in Cardiff, alone and afraid. The rest, as you say, is history. I suppose I'll never know if my father lived or died."

A while later, Jack left Teya alone while he called into work. He was as clandestine as ever about his work, not that she expected anything more or less from him. Of everything she had learned about him, she still had no idea what Jack did for a living. In some way she wasn't sure she wanted to know, somehow she couldn't picture Jack in a nine to five office job. She wasn't sure what kind of job she could see Jack doing. She sat by the window, staring out over the city and thinking many thoughts.

More than anything she knew that she couldn't stay. She knew too much about a man who kept his life a secret from everyone he met. She sighed, glancing round the room with a sense of regret. She would have stayed with Jack forever, but they weren't destined for that; he kept himself too far apart from her. She didn't care to admit to him how much she knew, because she didn't know what his reaction would be. She knew, all too well, that Jack could be violent, she'd seen that in his memories, but more than that he was unpredictable. Teya had no way to tell how Jack would react to the knowledge she possessed. That was enough knowledge in itself.

Teya left, not without regret, and not without looking back.


	8. Chapter 8

Story disclaimer: I own none of the following. Many of the references in this story are owed to the writers and the rest of the team(s) involved in the creation and production of Torchwood and Doctor Who. Without them, this story would not be possible. My character Teya owns me. I am making no money from this or any of my other fics posted on this site.

Author's Note: I like this chapter. It was a lot of fun. Enjoy!

**Scene Eight – Cardiff, Present Day**

The invisible lift lowered them slowly down into the Hub. Teya, once again clutching Jack's arm, gasped as she looked about her. Her eyes were drawn upward and above them by the great silver column in the Hub's centre and their downward motion. The Pterodactyl, disturbed by their entrance at such a strange hour of the morning, cried out from its roost but did not deign to move. Teya stared at the creature, unable to believe her eyes. Even on her world, she had never seen anything like the ancient flying reptile. As they reached the ground, she found herself staring around the Torchwood headquarters in appreciation. She smiled to herself just a little and said sarcastically "Jack Harkness, if I didn't know you better, I'd think you were compensating for something."

"But you do know me better, don't you?" He looked down at her, winking outrageously, as he always had. He stepped down from the lift first, steadying her as she followed him. She couldn't help but chuckle with him, at the same time angry at herself that he could still make her feel so at ease. She allowed him to help her across the Hub and down the stairs into the medical area. "You wanna lie down?"

"With you around? I don't think so." She laughed humourlessly, watching as he gathered a few things and admiring him despite herself. He hadn't changed an inch; save that his hair had grown a little longer his fringe swept to one side and spiked a little. It suited him. He must have sensed his gaze on her, for he turned to face her, eye brows raised in question.

"You still like what you see?" That was the Jack she remembered, always the flirt.

"Maybe." She couldn't lie to him, she'd never been able to, and something in her made her raise her head in challenge. "You?"

"Let's see."

Jack guided Teya to the gurney, letting her lean against it. She batted his hands away when he tried to lift her top, however reluctantly raising it herself and holding it below her breasts with one hand. She made to unravel the rough bandaging over her wound, but in his turn Jack pushed her hand away to do it himself. His touch was gentler than she remembered – and she had forgotten so much because of what he had done; his eyes contained more emotion than she would have believed. What, or who, had happened to Captain Jack Harkness that he should suddenly care so much for someone he had so underhandedly betrayed in the past? Gently, he lifted away the blood sodden gauze to reveal skin darkened by blood and a clawed gash across her stomach.

"Someone's put on a little weight." He teased softly as he cleaned the area, gently wiping swabs of gauze before placing them aside in a steel discard pan.

"You haven't changed a bit." She retorted softly, hissing as he began to clean the wound itself. "Arrogant as ever." She held the gash closed for him as he placed a series of steri-strips across it, and then allowed him to cover the wound with gauze and carefully wrap a bandage snugly about her belly. Then, without any preamble, he began to wipe her hands clean, his eyes never meeting hers, always focusing on the job at hand. Too tired to protest, and feeling warm and safe for the first time in days, she let him do so, watching him through half-lidded eyes. It was only when he placed his hands on her hips and leaned in to gently kiss her lips that she pushed him away, more viciously than was perhaps necessary. "You make a move on anyone you drag in off the streets, Jack?"

If he was disappointed in her rebuff, Jack showed no sign, simply smiling at her. "I don't drag just anyone in off the streets." His reply was gentler than she had expected. "I only brought you here because you know more than a little about Torchwood."

"And whose fault is that?" The barriers were back, a wall thrown between them. Both she and Jack wished that he had never mentioned it.

Jack made no reply to her question. He knew that her answer should have contained a lot more venom than it did. Instead, acidity had eroded her anger, a sign of her tiredness. Jack suspected that she was exhausted from both her evening out and from the amount of blood she had lost. Jack suspected that Teya had not eaten in some time. Past experience had taught him that a fully fed Everlarth healed within hours of sustaining even what would be a fatal wound for a human. Teya's wound showed little signs of healing. He had to smile as she sighed heavily, obviously more comfortable now that her injury was cleaned and bound, her eyelids drooping closed for a moment. She opened them again, wide, as if to deny her sleepiness.

"C'mon." Jack took her hand, gripping it all the tighter when she made to pull away. He lead her through the Hub once more, pleased to see her walking almost upright though her free hand still hugged her wound. He led her into his office, then down the ladder to his bunk. Without protest, she lay down and curled up, her back pressed against the wall. She looked at him with eyes wide open, half expecting him to lie beside her. But, knowing how such an act would be treated, all Jack did was to cover her with his blanket as he promised "I'll see to breakfast before you wake. Then we'll see where we go from there, okay?"

"Okay." It was not so much an agreement as Teya acquiescing to his suggestion. He made to stroke her cheek, but Teya jerked her head back, her skull meeting the wall with a distinct crack. She groaned, but snapped at Jack when he made to touch her again. "Don't!"

"Okay, okay." Jack held his hands up in a motion of surrender. There was silence between them for a while, Teya rubbing the back of her head with a slightly rueful look on her face. Slowly, her eyelids became heavy, though she tried to fight off the call of sleep, not trusting Jack an inch. Within moments, she was asleep. She gave a heavy sigh as she shifted into a deeper, healing sleep, her body finally relaxing from its defensive posture. Jack smiled to himself as he brushed her hair back gently, watching her sleep for a few minutes, pleased that the bed had a proper use for once. What the hell he was going to tell his team about her presence, though, he had no idea. He climbed the ladder into his office, and he made his way through the Hub and collected a neutralizer from the safe. Raiding a blood bank was probably easier than what he was about to do, but for Teya, he would take blood from a Weevil. He owed her that much.


	9. Chapter 9

Story disclaimer: I own none of the following. Many of the references in this story are owed to the writers and the rest of the team(s) involved in the creation and production of Torchwood and Doctor Who. Without them, this story would not be possible. My character Teya owns me. I am making no money from this or any of my other fics posted on this site.

**Scene Nine – Cardiff, 1985**

The three Doctors gazed down at the body, at a loss as to the cause of death. Rumours of vampyres were already spreading throughout the staff; they would not be helped by this latest addition to the morgue. Over the last year, more and more bodies were turning up drained of blood, yet with no marks or wounds to suggest _how_ they had lost so much blood. With this particular case, the only scar on the body was a cut to the wrist approximately an inch in length. An old scar, nothing but a thin white line, long healed. Baffled, they put the body on ice. Two hours later, they were visited by two men in sharp suits. When asked who they were, they replied simply "Torchwood."

Jack Harkness, on assignment to Torchwood London, was aware of the many bodies that were piling up in Torchwood's morgue, but they were far from his mind as he strolled nonchalantly through Hyde Park. Jack was on the up in life at that time, feeling flush and enjoying living through the variety of life that was the eighties. A few hard-core kids were hanging out, challenging one another with the volume of their boom-boxes, or ghetto-blasters or whatever they called them nowadays. Some people were walking dogs, or, like him, just enjoying life on a cool winter's day, and Jack, their unknown protector, loved just watching them all. He never noticed his shadow, following him wherever he went, stopping when he did. Too wrapped up in the packs of people and stench of raging hormones, he was completely oblivious until she threw her arms around him, gluing herself to his back. He pushed his assailant off so violently that she fell to the ground with a cry, then spinning round with hand already reaching for his gun before he even set eyes on her.

"Teya!"

"Jack." Pouting, she stood up, brushing herself down. He'd stopped dead in a comical position, hand inside his coat at belt height, one foot forward, and an expression that was half killer and half delight. She had to laugh as he stumbled forward to clasp her in his arms. "You need your ears syringing, Jack, a herd of elephants could've taken you by surprise!"

He held her close, not deigning to reply to her sarcasm, genuinely pleased to see her again. This wasn't the first time she had surprised him like this, catching up with him and throwing herself on him... in more than one sense of the phrase. She was as strong as ever, giving him a bear hug that crushed the air from his lungs. When he pushed her to arms length, his eyes roamed her hungrily, trying to drink in every new detail of her. Every time he saw her, her black hair was shorter, her sleek bob well out of fashion for the current time period, but her yellow eyes still burnt with an inner fire that Jack always found arousing. She was smiling at him as she asked "I thought you were in Cardiff. What brings you to London?"

"Work." He shrugged gently. "What happened to Paris? Madrid? Rome?"

"Change of scene." She too shrugged off his questioning, as always accepting that he had no interest in talking about his life, instead reaching up as she had the first time, running her hands through his hair and kissing him. Those that had stopped to stare at the pair now mostly turned aside with smiles. And Jack, far more interested in making something other than small talk, simply took her hands and led her out of Hyde Park to his flat and his bed.

Jack left her sleeping, as he always did, eager for her to wake up to a fresh meal... at least as fresh as he could get hold of. Simple enough raid on the local blood bank, his Torchwood fake IDs allowing him to "confiscate" enough samples for "analysis". In a few days time he would send a fake report from his office in Torchwood. He chose carefully, avoiding blood group B and anything rhesus positive. Teya always claimed that any blood from either category left her wired for hours. Having never sampled human blood, and with no particular wish to, Jack simply took her word for it.

Collecting a more appetizing meal for him was no problem, a few rapid stops to the local stores and he had enough to keep them both for a couple of days. Set to return to his flat and his lover, Jack had a beaming smile on his face. But even in his good mood, Jack was aware of someone following him. No stealthy Everlarth was this, whoever this was; he wanted Jack to know he was there. When Jack glanced back, a man in a smart suit stopped, beckoned to him. Jack, unwilling to approach, let the Torchwood operative come to him instead.

"I've come with a warning, Captain."

"From who?"

"You know who. Hand her over, or Torchwood will be forced to kill her."

"What? I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Your vampyre girlfriend." The agent looked about him. "You know she's dangerous, Captain, you're almost sure yourself that she is responsible for the deaths that accompanied her arrival in London. Now we have evidence to prove it."

"Evidence...?" Jack, about to defend Teya, faltered. "What evidence?"

"There was Everlarth blood and DNA found at the scene of many of the deaths, even on the bodies." The Torchwood agent folded his arms and smiled grimly. "Make it easy for us, Jack, because we won't ask you again. If you don't hand her over to us, she will die, and you will lose your position in Torchwood."

"Which means death for both of us..." Jack sighed, unsure of whether this man was aware of his uniqueness. He did not fear death, with good reason, but he did fear the effects of the latest experimental drug – Ret-con – which could steal half or more of his memory. To be immortal and not remember it, or all the things he had done... Jack needed Torchwood, for reasons that were his own, but more to the point, Jack feared for Teya, for though she was long lived, no way she was immortal... Jack left the Torchwood agent without another word, the weight of this decision weighing upon him...


	10. Chapter 10

Story disclaimer: I own none of the following. Many of the references in this story are owed to the writers and the rest of the team(s) involved in the creation and production of Torchwood and Doctor Who. Without them, this story would not be possible. My character Teya owns me. I am making no money from this or any of my other fics posted on this site.

**Scene Ten – Cardiff, Present Day **

Gwen was hunting madly for her keys, Rhys deliberately getting in her way, trying to snatch a rogue kiss before she bolted for work. She'd emptied out her bag at least twice, had the cushions off the sofa, and even checked that she hadn't accidentally put them in the fridge whilst putting back the milk after making a cup of tea the previous evening. They were nowhere to be found. She danced past Rhys into the bedroom where he caught her again, pushing her onto the bed and snatching a dozen, nibbling kisses to her ear and lips. Giggling into his mouth as he tried to kiss her more deeply, she pushed him off.

"Rhys, gerrof, I'm gonna be late!"

He lifted himself from the bed, a little disappointed that she wasn't in a more playful mood. As he watched, leaning on the door frame, she checked the bedside tables, and even lowered herself to the floor to check that they hadn't migrated to the no-man's land under the bed. Unable to contain it any longer, Rhys called her name softly, extracting said keys from a pocket and jangling them by his ear. Gwen screeched at him, leaping for him from her crouching position. She chased him into the lounge, diving at him so that the pair of them fell backward onto the sofa...

At the same time that Gwen was on her mad key hunt, Ianto Jones was similarly straightening his tie and jacket before moving more sedately from his flat. Hurt by Jack's constant rebuffs, he was beginning to wonder if the immortal American was tiring of their relationship, of him. The thought was terrifying to Ianto, who was only falling deeper for Jack by the day. The recent loss of Tosh and Owen had left a rift in their team as big as the one running through Cardiff itself, and it seemed to Ianto that while he was on one side, Jack was on the other and only moving further away.

Ianto was the first in, bobbing down to say hello to Jack before going back up to tidy the front office, but Jack was nowhere to be seen. Hearing the sound of settled breathing from Jack's bunk space, Ianto made his way to the computer stations. With the absence of Tosh, Ianto had taken it upon himself to run the weekly diagnostics that Jack demanded to keep Torchwood's systems at one hundred per cent efficiency. Ianto stood watching the system-checked percentage rise for several minutes, before turning to face the door as the klaxons went off, announcing the arrival of Gwen.

"Sorry I'm late." She offered Ianto a sheepish smile, blushing prettily. "Where's Jack?"

"Resting late." Ianto shrugged. "Must have been a rough night."

"You think there was trouble?" Gwen dropped her bag on her chair.

"Maybe." Ianto sighed. "Once upon a time, Jack would've called us in if there was. Now I'm not so sure."

"Oh, Ianto…" Gwen smiled at him, her gaze full of pity. "Give him time. He feels responsible for… for what happened."

Ianto nodded glumly, moving away from Gwen's compassion. It hurt more than he cared to admit, not only that he felt he was losing Jack but that Gwen still had enough in her life to pity him. He ended up ambling over to the medical bay to see if anything needed straightening there. He stopped short at the top of the steps, staring down at the state of the bay, the blooded gauze and wipes, and packaging for first aid stuff piled high on the table.

"Jack!" Fear swept through him, irrational fear for the man who could not die. "Jack!" Gwen came running over to the bay, frightened by the anxiety in Ianto's voice. She too stopped to stare at the mess.

"You yelled?" Jack emerged from the cells area, a long, insulated, silver and black mug in his hands. He looked particularly smart and spit polished, certainly not as if he'd had to patch himself up in any way, shape or form. He smiled at Gwen, making her heart flutter as always. He looked over at Ianto, his grin widening. "Don't worry your pretty little head, Ianto; I'll clear up in a bit."

"What happened in here?" Gwen put a gentle hand on Jack's shoulder as she peered down on the seeming carnage below. "Is that coffee? I could really use one..." Jack lifted the mug out of her reach, grinning as she reached for it, trying to imagine Gwen's horror if he'd let her drink its contents.

"Trust me, you really don't want this.' Jack turned away, promising Ianto once more that he would clear up and leaving Gwen feeling pushed aside. He crossed to his office and swung himself onto the ladder to his bunk area. The others looked at one another silently, following the unspoken rule that no one disturbed Jack in his private quarters unless it was an emergency.

Teya woke slowly as he ran a hand across her forehead and back through her hair, blinking against the artificial lights. Her nose twitched as she caught a warm, rich, fatty scent. A sound escaped her that was something between an eager snuffle and a territorial growl as she rose up into a crouched position almost like an animal. Jack was on one knee beside the bed, offering her the mug. "It's Weevil. Should bring you back up to strength in no time. I can get more if you need it?" She sat up, taking the mug from him and drinking from it eagerly. "Why do you drink Weevil blood, Teya, what's the attraction?" She sighed contentedly after draining the mug, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth and smearing her cheek with blood. Jack wiped it for her gently as she answered thoughtfully.

"More iron, more fat... and more of an adventure claiming a meal. When you've come so close to death, and death still means something, simply living isn't enough. Also, humans don't seem to care if you hunt Weevils, but they take offence to me hunting their own. Huh... I'll take a little more if you've got it." She glanced up the ladder, her tone hardening as she looked sharply at him. "Are your damned Torchwood cronies upstairs?"

"My team is in, yes." Jack nodded; knowing what was coming and dreading it.

"Got a cell all laid out for me, have they? I'm surprised you didn't lock me away last night." She rose defiantly, trying not to wince with the pain though her body was already healing thanks to the Weevil blood, and made to climb up the ladder, but he blocked her way by leaning on it. Her yellow eyes flashed at him angrily. "Thanks for your hospitality Jack, but I'm not that eager to spend eternity with you. Once upon a time, I might have done, but not now. Not after what you did."

"Would you stop?" Jack touched her cheek with a gentleness that shouldn't have surprised her. "Can't a guy admit that he made a mistake?"

"Not you, Jack Harkness." She pushed both his hands aside and climbed the short ladder up into the Hub.

Teya very much doubted that Jack and the rest of the Torchwood Cardiff team would allow her to simply walk from their headquarters. Indeed, when she emerged from Jack's quarters, the two strangers stopped what they were doing to study her. Ianto had finished cleaning up the medical bay and had returned to the computer stations – he hated thinking of it as Tosh's station – to check the messages and his diagnostics. He looked up from the screen in surprise at their guest, saw where she had come from and scowled. Jealously flashed across his face before he could smooth it away, had Jack replaced him already?

Gwen too felt a moment of jealously, staring at the woman unabashedly. She was floored by the woman's appearance, for though she knew Jack lived in the Hub, she'd never known him bring anyone back after a night out. And he'd been on call too. Gwen had never thought Jack possible of such dereliction of duty. They almost never brought people into the Hub unless they were directly linked to a case. Was Jack working on something here? But it was the look on Ianto's face that hurt her most, that crestfallen acceptance that Jack had found someone else…

"Jack?" Her welsh lilt broke the stunned silence. "What's… what's going on?"

"Gwen, Ianto," Jack stepped forward to put a protective arm around Teya, who stepped purposefully out of his reach. She didn't trust him, not after everything he'd done, not even after he'd brought her here, fixed her up and fed her, "I'd like you to meet Teya. Teya, this is Gwen Cooper and Ianto Jones."

"Hi." Gwen's greeting was stiff and almost formal. Teya nodded to the pair. Anything and anyone Torchwood was danger in her eyes, and she kept a wary, watchful eye on both Gwen and Ianto. Jack… suffice to say she often knew what Jack would do before he knew it himself. She kept that thread of her mind fixed firmly on him.

"Hi."

"So Jack, you want to explain why she's _here_?" Gwen shot an apologetic glance at Teya but Gwen was still confused by Jack's behavior. She wanted an explanation.

"Teya's a friend of mine from a while back. She was hurt and needed help. It's safe, she knows Torchwood… soft of…"

"Knows Torchwood?" Gwen said loudly, before Ianto could speak but voicing what he was thinking. "I thought you said this was the one job we couldn't quit? How is it that she wasn't ret-conned?"

"I wasn't exactly _employed_ by Torchwood." Teya turned her sharp, yellow eyes on Gwen, disliking the fact that she was being spoken about in the third person. She turned towards Gwen to show her the tattoo of the T made up of hexagons that was Torchwood's logo. Across the top it showed the number 5167. The mark of prisoners of the days before Torchwood London had been destroyed.

Gwen was horrified as it dawned on her what Teya was showing her. The news that Teya had been held by Torchwood went someway to explaining the way Teya was now standing, ready to bolt at the first opportunity, and the aggression that flashed through her eyes on occasion. Yet still something between Jack and Teya was being left unsaid, a deep rooted fear in the way she glared angrily at Jack with every look she sent him. And Jack was looking at Teya with what could only be described as regret tinged with pity. Gwen glanced at Ianto, taking in his reaction, and was surprised to see recognition in his eyes. He knew this woman? He'd gone pale, glancing down at some sheets of paper in his hand and then looking at Jack with some concern, almost fear, wrought across his face.

"Jack, can I have a word?"

"Sure Ianto." Jack touched Teya's arm hesitantly, as if afraid that she would lash out at him. She turned towards him slightly, always keeping one wary eye on the rest of the team. "Teya, will you at least me take a look at that wound before you go?"

"Go?" It was little more than an echo of his question. She studied him closely, not daring to believe that he truly intended to let her go. She had spent too long in a Torchwood cell, running the moment when Jack had betrayed her and given her up to them in her mind, too long plotting her revenge, too long hating him... Yet he was looking at her steadily now with nothing but truth in his pale blue eyes as he answered her.

"Yes, Teya, you're free to go where you will. Torchwood's changed... and so have I." He gripped the top of her arm gently, as if pleading for her understanding, but his eyes had risen to look at Ianto. "I'll meet you in the boardroom in a few minutes?"


	11. Chapter 11

Story disclaimer: I own none of the following. Many of the references in this story are owed to the writers and the rest of the team(s) involved in the creation and production of Torchwood and Doctor Who. Without them, this story would not be possible. My character Teya owns me. I am making no money from this or any of my other fics posted on this site.

Author's Note: Again I hate this chapter. Suggestions for improvement welcome.

**Scene Eleven** –** London, 1986**

They saw the New Year in together, both of them lost in a frenzy of passion that would be their last. Jack, while she dozed in his arms, reminisced on all their past encounters, from their first in an inn not so far from here, right up to this cursed day. Jack found himself turning over in his mind what he knew of the recent killings that left the victims drained of blood. He knew of a dozen species that could do such a thing, and suspected that there were a good few more that he didn't know of. But Torchwood was getting pretty good at tracking alien life and there seemed to be nothing in the area that was capable of such an act... other than Teya...

He looked down on her sleeping form and smiled fondly to himself. He could remember their first meeting like it was yesterday, how she'd given him a blood-laced smile before assuring him that she wasn't going to kill the man she was feeding from. He remembered finding her again, five years later, and how she'd fed from him, and how sick she'd become. He remembered desperately trying to pronounce her full name, finally settling for "Teya", which meant "Lost", which was much easier than "Child who was born lost in a century of darkness". Even in English that was a mouthful.

Jack winced as he thought of the number of times their lives had coincided, their paths running in parallel, occasionally meeting for brief periods. Jack had to admit that though they had known each other for a lifetime, though they enjoyed the time they spent together, they knew very little about one another. She was capable of killing, of that there was no doubt, but that didn't mean she was a killer, then again it didn't mean she wasn't. He woke her gently, with much regret, early the following morning. She followed him without question to Canary Wharf, though when he entered the tower building she hung back.

"Jack?" Her voice was questioning. He stopped and look back, trying not to flinch at the fear in her eyes.

"C'mon." He took her hand, leading her into the corridor. He nodded to the guards lounging in the security office, who ignored the pair of them. Clearly they were expecting Jack and his companion. "This is where I work, I just need to drop something off."

"This is Torchwood Tower, Jack..."

"I know." Jack stopped again, turned to face her. He knew as his eyes met hers that she knew of Torchwood and what it was. "Teya..."

"You're Torchwood..." It was only half a question. She pulled away from Jack, stepped backward... into the arms of the two security guards. She fought against them briefly, spitting at them and glaring at Jack. Then, as suddenly as she started, she stopped. Her voice was low when she spoke next. "You think I'm responsible for these murders Jack? After everything? You still think I'm a killer?"

"I... I don't know." Jack hesitated. "But if I don't do this, they'll kill you... Retcon me..."

"How do you know that they won't kill me anyway?" Teya tried to shake the guards off but their hold on her was too strong. "How do you know that by saving me from Death you haven't sentenced me to Death?"

Jack could say nothing to that. He had no assurances. The guards began to drag Teya away down the corridor, and Jack stepped to one side out of their way, flinching as she screamed and spat at him. He moved back into the centre of the corridor as they dragged her away, hands in his pockets, chin raised in defiance of the hurt and shame he was feeling, trying to deny the threats and curses flung his way.

"You bastard, Jack Harkness! I hope you burn in the Pit of Eternal Fire! I hope the demons of Vassal Four play with your soul for all time! I hope you die, Jack!" On and on she screamed, pulling towards him as the guards dragged her away from Jack, hauling against them so violently the Jack was sure her shoulders would dislocate, her yellow eyes flashing with fire at him. "You're the monster, you bastard, not me! I hope you die!"

He watched her all the way, miserable inside himself but showing her the cold face, emotionless and dark. She only went quiet when one of Torchwood's employees approached her and stuck her with a needle full of sedative. The effect was instantaneous, her body going limp and her cursing ceasing. She managed one last time to raise her head enough to meet his gaze. Her yellow eyes were filled with more than hate; they burned with more than anger. Jack was shocked by the intensity of the betrayal she felt… All he could think in that moment was "I wish I could..."

They threw her into a cell, sending her sprawling to the floor. Her body, chock full of sedative, was completely unable to save her from the fall. Her head smashed against the floor, leaving her even more disorientated. In a state of shock, she lay on the floor, eyes fixed on the elderly Weevil opposite her. She felt a swell of pity for it, as it growled and whined at the guards. It quieted after they left, and somewhere inside herself, Teya felt a surge of hope that such a spirit could still exist in a place like this. She certainly felt as if there was nothing left for her…

They let her settle in, in a way, leaving her and the rest of the block alone for that duration of the day. She was unable to move for most of it, lying prone on the ground. When she could stand, she spent a little time trying the door to the cell and looking for a way out, but before she'd even begun, she knew from the looks on the face of the Weevil that it was hopeless. After not very long, she sank to the floor against the door of the cell, defeated. They brought supper, lumps of meat for the Weevils and a bag of watered down blood for her. Thanks to Jack, and thinking of him brought a vile taste into her mouth, she would be healthy for the best part of a week, but after that she expected her strength to fail, her eyes to lose their bright yellow colour, her hair to become lank and greasy. All thanks to Jack. For the first time in her life, despite all that she and her family had been through, Teya was truly terrified…


	12. Chapter 12

Story disclaimer: I own none of the following. Many of the references in this story are owed to the writers and the rest of the team(s) involved in the creation and production of Torchwood and Doctor Who. Without them, this story would not be possible. My character Teya owns me. I am making no money from this or any of my other fics posted on this site.

**Scene Twelve** –** London, 2000**

Jack was more alone that year than he had been in a very long time. One moment he'd been in a mood for celebration; the century had turned twice, bringing his predicted meeting with the Doctor ever closer, a new millennium had been ushered in, bringing with it the creature that Jack had fondly nicknamed the "Millennium Bug" before kicking both its butt and its eighteen poison stacked legs. The next moment his world had been torn apart by having returned to the Hub to find that his boss, Alex, had looked into an alien device and subsequently killed the other members of the Torchwood team. What the man had seen, Jack could only guess, for Alex had described it only as "the storm", before killing himself with a single shot to the head. Jack was left surrounded by bodies and blood, more alone than ever before.

Jack didn't know if it was that sense of loneliness, or one of business unfinished, that made him return to Torchwood London. But return he did, leaving the Hub for the first time since moving in there permanently. He was met by Yvonne Hartman, the head of Torchwood London. She greeted him as an equal despite the fact that she had a massive team and he now had no-one. She granted him access to Teya for a short while after a few direct questions as to his business with her. Jack answered as honestly but vaguely as he could, unwilling to share their history with a stranger.

"I should warn you, she isn't the being she was when you brought her in." Yvonne smiled as she betrayed that she had had full access to the file, and that smile was understanding enough to show that she was fully aware of his and Teya's history. "Prisoner 5167 underwent some thorough interrogations in her early days here. According to her file, she had a real fire, had to be sedated every time she was taken from her cell. Now though..."

Jack had cut Yvonne off at this point, unable to listen any more. His apprehension did not show as he followed a guard down the cell block. He was afraid, a rare thing in the man who couldn't die. The cell block was brightly lit, the whole area clinical, white and bare. He passed Weevils, eight of them, all snarling and pawing at the re-enforced glass doors in a vain attempt to get their hands on the guard and the guest. They passed a green-skinned alien that dared to take on Jack's form and gaze at him out of his own haunted blue eyes, but Jack barely spared the creature a glance, remaining aloof to it all as he followed that guard towards the end of the block.

Jack flinched visibly as a Blowfish threw himself against his cell door, yowling and yammering like a beast. The guard pointed the long tube he was carrying at the Blowfish, a stream of energy cutting through the glass as if it wasn't there to seize the alien in its grasp and shake him viciously. The Blowfish screamed for the duration of the attack, hunkering down when it was released and glaring balefully at the guard. Jack watched this interaction, a part of his mind marveling that the cell door remained intact and untouched, acknowledging the memories that sprang up of his first mission for Torchwood, but his eyes had already fixed on the alien in the cell opposite the Blowfish.

She did not even seem to register his presence as Jack dismissed the guard with a curt word. Having already had his gun, vortex manipulator and swipe-cards removed from his person before entering the cell block, the guard was happy enough to leave Jack with the prisoner. Teya's emaciated body was curled up in the far corner of her cell, head resting on her arms to keep her head up off the cold floor. She wore a black vest top and shorts that did nothing to hide the bruises and scars of her time in Torchwood, the top of her left arm forever marked with a Torchwood tattoo with her prisoner number 5167 across the top.

Tears welled in Jack's eyes for her, hating to see this vacant shell that had once been a woman so full of life and passion... He had destroyed her, as surely as Alex had destroyed the last Torchwood Cardiff team. What had he done? What tests and torture, what cruelties had Jack submitted her to? He crouched down to be more on her level, pressing his hands flat against the glass of her cell, desperate to reach out to her. "Oh Teya, I'm so sorry..."

"You'll get nothing out of her." The Blowfish offered quietly after a moment's silence, his words clipped and harsh, barely understandable. Jack rose again, his eyes never leaving Teya, but the Blowfish must have sensed that Jack was listening. "She hasn't consciously spoken since I was brought in."

"Consciously?" Jack queried, glancing over his shoulder.

"Sometimes... sometimes she cries out in her sleep for someone called Jack. Sometimes like she's calling to a friend or lover, sometimes like she wants to kill him... Are you Jack?"

"Cap'n Jack Harkness." The introduction rolled off his tongue, but there was no heart in it. The Blowfish retreated to the back of his cell, in the pretence of giving them some privacy. And at last, at those words, Teya glanced up to let her gaze lock with Jack's. Her expression was piteous, her pale eyes almost white, a sure sign that she wasn't receiving enough nutrients, and though her eyes were empty, her utter misery was expressed in the single tear that rolled down her face. The only sign of the stubborn fire that had once occupied the Everlarth was when, slowly, gingerly, as if her body were made of paper, Teya turned her back on Jack, uttering a pitiful whine so full of pain that it tore Jack's heart...


	13. Chapter 13

Story disclaimer: I own none of the following. Many of the references in this story are owed to the writers and the rest of the team(s) involved in the creation and production of Torchwood and Doctor Who. Without them, this story would not be possible. My character Teya owns me. I am making no money from this or any of my other fics posted on this site.

**Scene Thirteen – Present Day**

Jack paused long enough to watch Teya cross the Hub to make herself a coffee, his hands tucked into his pockets and his eyes narrowed as he wondered at the fear on Ianto's face and the way he had tightened his grip on whatever reports he had been holding. The Welshman had recognised Teya, of that much Jack was sure, though he could not think how. He must have come across her in Torchwood London, and putting two and two together could only mean trouble for both Torchwood and Cardiff. Ianto had already gone down to the boardroom to prepare some form of briefing whilst Jack had been attempting to persuade Teya to stay a little longer. The Everlarth kept a wary eye on Gwen – who was looking up some information for Ianto on the computer - as she went, and Jack knew that she still did not trust the Torchwood team. With good reason, he admitted to himself regretfully…

"Jack?" Gwen's welsh lilt summoned him from his thoughts, lifting his mood just a little and making him turn to face her. "Are you alright?" She smiled shyly as his eyes connected with hers. It was, as always, as if the man with all his darkness and mystery could see right into her soul, knew her thoughts...

"Sure..." He offered her an arm in his most over-the-top gentlemanly manner, which Gwen accepted with the shy smile that never failed to make Jack's heart beat just a little faster. A few minutes later, the Torchwood team was sat round the table in the boardroom, and Ianto wasted no time in launching into his concerns.

"Your friend, Jack, she's an Everlarth." It was more of a statement than a question as Ianto looked sharply at Jack.

"I think Teya might take offense at the term friend these days, but yes, she's an Everlarth." He returned Ianto's gaze levelly, aware of his jealousy but refusing to acknowledge it. Jack voiced his earlier thought. "You've met her before."

Ianto looked away, suddenly ashamed, remembering the first time he had seen Teya during his training at Torchwood London. How he'd walked down the cell block, privately horrified by the Weevils, the Blowfish and the shape-shifter, then seeing the poor pathetic form that he had been told was an alien, yet looked so... normal... Her yellow eyes so pale that they were almost white, sunken and lifeless, had connected with his even as their trainer warned them about hardening their hearts to the ploys of aliens, to remember the first rule of aliens – always assume they bite. Ianto couldn't quite believe that this one would, reading that pitiful gaze that had tugged at his heart. Coming back to the present slowly, Ianto nodded, still unable to look at Jack.

"Ianto?" It was, again, Gwen's soft voice that prompted him to continue.

"There was a message for us from the Chief Inspector this morning, called in late last night." Ianto's voice took a moment to become flat and professional again. "There have, so far, been a total of fourteen deaths in the last ten days, all unexplained, all of the victims dying from severe blood loss."

As he spoke, Ianto flashed up images on the main screen of each victim, and he now handed copies of the autopsy reports round the table. Again, each report held pictures of the victims, pale and grey. He would not look at Jack as he continued. "The thing that is confusing the police and coroners is that there are no apparent wounds that would permit that sort of blood loss. In fact, most of the bodies were completely clean, save for a three or four day old cut approximately three centimetres to the left wrist." Again, Ianto provided images of these cuts on the main screen, extracted from the autopsy reports as he spoke.

"Everlarths are plasmavores." Jack filled in for Gwen, seeing her confusion. "They feed on blood. Human legend of Vampyres stem from the presence of an Everlarth colony on Earth several centuries ago. The stories have been romanticised a little – Everlarth's don't feed from the neck but from a cut to the wrist. The first time I met Teya she was feeding from a guy in an inn, call it a bonus for a good nights work..."

"And you can put away the crosses, garlic, sunlight and so on." Ianto at, unsure whether to smile or scowl at Jack. "The only way to kill an Everlarth is with a good, old fashioned gun. Though a stake through the heart might just do the job I suppose."

Jack stood up, feeling a familiar sense of déjà vu. He went over to the screen in the pretence of inspecting the autopsy images more closely, when in reality it was to hide the fact that he was unable to face his colleagues. He'd been in this situation before, and last time he'd made the wrong choice, a decision that had cost numerous lives and Teya's trust in him. And now that he was in the same situation, would he make the same mistake again? He took a deep breath, suddenly aware of the eyes of team on him, both of them waiting for his call.

"Teya was chasing a Weevil for food when I came across her." He turned to face them at last. "More to the point, she was injured and starving. Everlarth's heal quickly when they're fully fed. No way did she kill and drain fourteen bodies in ten days. More to the point, she's been feeding off Weevil blood for a while now, desperate to avoid detection since the last time she encountered Torchwood."

"Everlarth's don't exactly have a reputation for being that cunning Jack." Ianto objected.

"Teya's had to be cunning, Ianto. She's alone, and terrified of being recaptured by Torchwood. She only came here because I asked her to trust me. I promised I'd let her go. I'm not about to break that promise." Jack sighed heavily, turning away from his team. He took another deep breath before continuing. "What Teya and I didn't tell you is that it was me that handed her over to Torchwood the last time that bodies started turning up in London, all of them drained of blood with a cut on the wrist. Teya wasn't responsible then, I won't believe that she is now."

"Thank you, Jack." Teya was in the doorway of the boardroom as Jack spoke, and she managed to smile just a little at him as he spun to face her. The two of them locked gazes, and though nothing was said, Gwen and Ianto took this as their cues to get their investigation underway. Ianto went to pick through the autopsy reports in greater detail, while Gwen took on the rift activity and other related reports, as well as to make some calls to see if the police department had any leads.

"So it's Gwen is it?" Teya smiled, now knowing that it was Gwen that had influenced Jack so profoundly. Well, good for her.

Jack glanced back to where Gwen had disappeared after Ianto, smiling a little, thinking he knew what Teya was alluding to. He shook his head in denial. Teya took a seat, looking over some of the autopsy reports as Jack studied her for a few minutes. She was aware of his gaze on her, but unwilling to give Jack anything to work from. Full and rested, she supposed Jack had gone some way in an attempt to make things up to her. She was even beginning to believe that he might let her go.

"I'm sorry." Jack paused, having started an apology that he hadn't intended to give, wasn't sure where to go next. "They threatened to kill you... I'm so sorry."

"So you said, Jack." Her yellow eyes met his as she pushed the autopsy reports away. She stood up again, going to stand opposite him. "I don't know how you do it, Jack. How do you keep going? Knowing who you are and what you've done?"

"I fought so hard to get you out of there. I tried to get them to transfer you up to Cardiff so that I could look after you..."

"Obviously you didn't try hard enough Jack." Her voice was low, cruel in its intensity. Her temper snapped as she spoke, angered by his apology and the tears that she had denied for years. Teya stood threateningly close to him, glaring at him with nothing but malice and contempt on her face. "You saved me by handing me a death sentence Jack! And believe me; death would've been preferrable to what they did to me. I think even _you_ would be surprised at what you can live through. They broke me Jack, destroyed what little you left of my spirit, and it was your fault they did."

Jack watched as she ran for the door, leaving him stood speechless. He'd seen the tears well in her eyes as she had spoken and, if he knew Teya at all, it would be the first time since escaping Torchwood London that she had let her emotions run away with her. He sighed, following her through the Hub in time to see the great circular door roll shut behind her. Gwen and Ianto, both at their stations, glanced at Jack but neither voiced their questions. Stony faced, Jack walked past them, his hands tucked in his pockets and head lowered. He walked into his office, without a word or a glance of acknowledgement, to disappear into his bunk space.


	14. Chapter 14

Story disclaimer: I own none of the following. Many of the references in this story are owed to the writers and the rest of the team(s) involved in the creation and production of Torchwood and Doctor Who. Without them, this story would not be possible. My character Teya owns me. I am making no money from this or any of my other fics posted on this site.

Author's Note: Ah so good to see some olf friends again!

**Scene Fourteen** –** London, 2004**

The sounds of screaming echoed about the cells, the military clonking of metal boots overhead. United cries of "Delete!" and "Exterminate!" filtered through the shrieks of pain as the battle raged above them. Teya, like the other prisoners, had risen carefully to press herself against the glass door of her cell, her gaunt face harrowed by bruises, a spark of curiosity in her colourless eyes. Whatever battle was going on above them, she was still alert for an opportunity to escape. Some of her fellows had also decided on this tactic, the Weevils were throwing themselves against their cell doors, their defiance clear in their growling. Teya glanced at the Blowfish opposite her and they shared a long look. She nodded once to him, a determined incline of her head, and he returned the gesture. They would die free, or die trying...

The prisoners went still as a unit of metallic robot-men entered the cell block, black eye-sockets empty and slits for mouths. They looked at the prisoners, as if assessing them. "The Cybermen require greater numbers to defeat the Daleks. You will be upgraded." Teya retreated a step at the sound of the robotic voice; the mount slit lighting up blue as the lead robot spoke... Cybermen? Upgraded? Not exactly keen on the sound of that, Teya backed into the corner of her cell, preparing herself. She knew how weak she was, nearly twenty years of torture had seen to that, being fed thinned blood full of anti-coagulants and little space to move had left her emaciated, weak, and not so far from death, but she would be damned if Torchwood and these Cybermen would be that death... The Cybermen began to blow the locks with powerful electric charges from their hands, entering the cells and dragging the prisoners away. The further they got down the block, the more Teya's resolve weakened...

The metal hand was cold as it gripped her arm. She fought against its vice-like grip, crying out and trying to pull away with all her feeble strength... It pulled her from the cell with as much effort as dragging a small lap-dog, the Cybermen forming up in a regimental style with their prisoners between them. Teya was beside the Blowfish, both of them giving up in themselves, defiance immobilized by their fear. These Cybermen would have been more than a match for them both at full strength, let alone in their current conditions. Then something very strange happened. The Cyberman holding her began to rise up, letting go of her in its surprise... if it could feel surprise... Teya fell to the floor, grunting as her hip met the cold floor, watching as all the Cybermen rose upward, then with a suddenness that terrified them all, the Cybermen disappeared through the ceiling, sucked as if by a giant vacuum cleaner and leaving a cloud of plaster chunks and dust in their wake.

It took a moment to register that they were free, the prisoners all staring upward after the Cybermen, each one breaking into coughing fits as the dust in the air caught them. Teya felt a foot nudge her, then the Blowfish offered her a scaled fin-like hand. He helped her upright, before the two of them led the way from the cells. They expected to meet resistance at every turn, but there was nothing. They passed so many dead humans, all Torchwood operatives, and Teya found herself concerned for Jack's safety. Was he here, in Torchwood London, lying dead somewhere? Had he been "upgraded"? She shook her head to clear such thoughts as they headed out of a fire-exit, burnt open by some unknown weapon, to stand blinking in the daylight.

They scattered to the four winds, those that made it out alive. Dehydrated, emaciated, broken in every possible way, some ran, others limped, and a few gave up and died in the court yard, content to have seen the Sun a final time. But Teya and the Blowfish moved away from Torchwood Tower as fast as they could. They fed that night on an elderly homeless guy who had been about to tuck himself into a mouldy old sleeping bag. Frozen scared by the sight of a walking fish, the guy was easily dispatched by the Blowfish's poisonous breath. Teya fed quickly, before the blood could coagulate in his veins, desperate for warm, rich, salty blood, before the Blowfish had his share. They slept a few miles later in an abandoned council flat that was rife with vermin and stank to high heaven, but it was freedom, and to Teya tasted every bit as warm and fresh as the blood she had fed on.

She dreamed of Jack that night... dreamed of the day he had delivered her to Torchwood, shouted and screamed profanities at him for all she was worth, but then things turned about and it was her watching as Jack underwent the tortures and cruelties that she herself had undergone. Beatings, systematic electrocutions, whipped, starved and chained. Teya woke with a start when Jack was shot between the eyes, a step further than Torchwood had ever taken it with her, full of terror not for herself but for Jack. She settled again slowly, her back pressed against the Blowfish's for warmth, but it was a long time before she drifted back into sleep. Her dreams were more peaceful, though Jack was reading a list of the dead, someone close to him named on that list. Though she did not know who it was, Teya felt his pain. She always felt the pain, as if that was the only time jack ever allowed himself to feel.

When she awoke the following morning, the Blowfish was gone, and Teya did not wait to see if he would return. She, as much as he, wanted to be away from this place, putting as much distance between themselves and the chance of being recaptured. Teya had no doubt that if Torchwood ever recovered from the battle they would be doing their best to retake all those who had escaped their clutches. Yet something carried her feet back to Torchwood Tower and Canary Wharf, and Teya knew that something was Jack.

It took all her courage to head into the seemingly deserted building which groaned and creaked on occasion, suggesting that the sudden disappearance of the Cybermen and Daleks had left the building structurally unsound. Though there were no signs of life, she crept through the building, floor by floor, searching the bodies that littered the floors for signs of Jack. There was no sign of him at all, and despite the knowledge that he was probably somewhere else entirely, Teya was pleased to find a computer terminal that appeared undamaged. She sat down to search the system.

Fifteen minutes later, she pushed her chair away from the desk, slapping her palm down on the desk in annoyance. Unable to access the system, she supposed that she would never know of Jack's whereabouts, or even if he was still alive. She left the room dejectedly, wandering down the corridor, trying to get herself into the mind set of running again, but she could not summon the calm she needed, until...

"Tosh, go through this lot would you? Owen..."

Jack's voice! Teya had to stop herself shouting aloud as she peered round an open door to see Jack standing with a ginger haired man, while a young Asian woman was searching through a box of gadgets. It was all she could do not to dash into the room and throw her arms around Jack, sternly reminding herself that though Jack had been her friend once upon a time, he was Torchwood and therefore the enemy. He had proved that much on the day he had handed her over to them.

At least satisfied that he was alive and well, Teya felt that sought after calm settle upon her. Smiling as she saw Jack clap the man on the back and go over to the woman, picking up an item, studying for a moment before tossing it to one side. Jack seemed to have a wary respect for both his colleagues, as if he knew their reputations but not their intent. Teya smiled to herself before disappearing down the corridor, murmuring a quiet goodbye.

Jack picked up another item, unsure what it was, and decided to file it in the bag with the other items Tosh had deemed worthy of taking back to the Hub. He dropped it suddenly, alert and looked round at the door where, unbeknown to him, Teya had been standing moments ago. Tosh glanced up at him as he frowned, quietly asking him if he was okay.

"Nothing's wrong Tosh." He smiled, picking up the item he had dropped and studying it more closely. "I just got the spooks for a moment. For a moment it felt like we were being watched..."

Jack shrugged it off, going back to what he was doing. He put it down to the eeriness of the empty building, the echoes of the people who had worked her not a day before, and the fact that he hadn't found a trace of Teya in his searches through the building. He had found the Cyberman conversion units, the grizzled bodies of some of the Cybermen's less successful attempts to convert Torchwood employees. Some of the bodies were alien, all marked with the Torchwood T, and many of the cell blocks had been ripped apart by the Cybermen when they had come for the prisoners, including the block Jack had last seen Teya in. Had she been upgraded? Did she live still, or had Torchwood been the death of her as Teya had feared so long ago?

A few minutes later, through the broken windows, they heard the roar of an SUV engine. Owen and Jack glanced at each other before both dashing to the windows that looked down over the entrance to the complex, fearing the loss of their own vehicle by some opportunistic thief or by another Torchwood scavenger. Sure enough, they saw a Torchwood SUV leaving the complex, being driven rather recklessly. Their own SUV was still parked below; Jack was the first to make sure of that.

"You want me to go after it?" Owen asked, already halfway across the room.

"No." Jack wasn't sure why he wasn't bothered by the loss of the SUV, why he didn't want Owen to go after it. He smiled out of the window, for a moment allowing himself to dream that it was Teya escaping. Even when that day-dream faded, and it did so quickly, Jack had to acknowledge that whoever had escaped this place and the battle between the Daleks and the Cybermen deserved every chance to get away and to live...


	15. Chapter 15

Story disclaimer: I own none of the following. Many of the references in this story are owed to the writers and the rest of the team(s) involved in the creation and production of Torchwood and Doctor Who. Without them, this story would not be possible. My character Teya owns me. I am making no money from this or any of my other fics posted on this site.

**Scene Fifteen – Cardiff, Present Day**

Teya had left the Hub with eyes misted by tears she had refused to shed for so long. She cursed Jack for making her feel again, after so many years of nothing but hate. She ran it off, and by the time she reached her SUV, the tears were nothing more than dried salt streaks on her cheeks. The stinging in her yellow eyes was a welcome relief, reminding her that she was still capable of feeling even after everything. She unlocked the SUV with the zapper, heading straight for the boot and her holdall, from which she pulled out a black leather jacket. It had been a long night, despite her restful sleep, and she was so tempted to take a nap, but she now knew one thing. There were other Everlarths on Earth.

She had overheard enough of Ianto's briefing to know of their presence, and now she feared for her life on two accounts. She had to know if these Everlarths were friends of her father's; and whether or not they were, she needed to know if they were hunting her or oblivious as to her presence. The idea of seeing her own people again, whether friends or enemies, was an interesting one, certainly she had never expected to see one of her own kind again. She intended to track them down, but she did not mean to do so unprepared. She had enough weaponry accidentally pilfered from Torchwood London when she had taken the SUV to see to that.

Even so, she sat behind the wheel for several minutes, her mind caught up by the thought of seeing one of her own. Could it be her own father, come back to claim her? Or one of his men coming to seek their rightful ruler? She smiled at that thought, knowing the chances were millions to one, but daring to dream. It had been such a long time since she had dared to dream… In a surge of annoyance at her own childishness, Teya slammed her palms against the steering wheel, sending jolts of sensation up her lower arms. She turned the key in the ignition, feeling the engine roar to life. Within moments she was on her way out of the city centre. If nothing else, she owed it to them to get to them before Torchwood could, to try and warn them of the danger they were in. If they turned out to be her enemies… well, then Jack and Torchwood could do as they pleased.

It was quiet in the Hub, with Jack still hiding in his quarters and the others still beavering away. Gwen was already tracking Teya, not daring to trust Jack's assessment of her, a map of Cardiff displayed on one of the screens and a little red dot bleeping quietly. Ianto glanced up as the bleeping increased in frequency. "She's moving faster." He commented to no one in particular. Gwen looked up as he spoke, and then quickly turned her attention back to the rift activity reports. The reports had come up with nothing significant, so she had also turned her attention to dragging up the police reports from the mid-eighties so that Ianto could compare them with the current ones. She made no reply to Ianto's comment and the silence stretched between them. Owen would have made some sarcastic comment, Gwen figured to herself, something just to fill the gap in conversation. No doubt someone would respond by throwing a pen at him, or sniping some comment back…

"I think I've got something…" Gwen's attention had been brought back to the rift activity reports. Ianto tossed aside the autopsy report he'd been reading for the third time and came to stand beside her. "Look at this. There was nothing special in the rift activity reports, so I set the computer to cross reference them with a few of the other reports – gas emissions, freak weather patterns, UFO sightings… The computers just thrown up a link between the rift activity report, the neutrino emission report and the UFO sighting from two weeks ago that we were sure was a hoax…"

Ianto watched as a graph was displayed on the screen, with time passing along the horizontal axis, levels of activity up the vertical axis. They watched as the two lines on the graph peaked and troughed seemingly randomly, but suddenly both peaked together, right on a dotted vertical line that indicated a UFO sighting. It wasn't a massive peak, but Gwen knew that at last they had something. "There you go."

"How did we miss it?" Ianto asked.

"The neutrino emissions suggest a form of cloaking technology – very Star Trek - from the spike we're showing here only a very rudimentary form." Jack made them both jump, having snuck up behind them. He was already dressed in his long coat and ear-piece, and appeared to be back to his normal self, face his typical mask plaster with Hollywood grin. "Probably not complex enough to maintain during rift flight, but maybe enough to hold up whilst stationary or cruising. Good job, Gwen."

"So someone sees a UFO coming through the rift, but it's as good as gone when we go after it. Great." Ianto grumbled. "How the hell are we supposed to find it, and who does it belong to?"

"We can find it easily enough." Gwen smiled, pulling one of Tosh's gadgets out from under a couple of others. "We simply track the neutrino emissions to their source. Whether or not we'll be able to see it when we get to it..." She shrugged without finishing her sentence.

"So we need a way to interupt these neutrinos?" Ianto half-asked, half-suggested.

"Already got one." Jack tapped his vortex manipulator. "Ianto, you're with me. Gwen, I hate to do it, but I need you to track down Teya. Make sure nothing happens to her, and make sure she's not up to anything untoward."

Gwen frowned. She was partly aware of what it cost Jack, having just lied to Teya and as good as told her he trusted her, to order her to do that. A nod was enough to tell him she understood, but Gwen did not draw Jack's attention to the program already tracing Teya. Ianto and Jack headed for the garage after only a moments delay for Ianto to download a neutrino tracking programme onto the transportable device that Gwen had given him. Gwen watched them go. Like Ianto, she paused only to transfer the tracking programme onto a PDA, before following the pair out to the garage a few moments later, a gaping hole already left by the absent SUV.

"Jack?" Gwen pressed her ear-piece as she climbed into her car.

"Gwen. We're heading north. Where's Teya?"

"Heading north-west. No way she's on foot, she's moving too fast."

"But where's she going?" Gwen knew from his tone that the question was rhetorical. "Gwen, keep in touch. Don't let her see you. Teya has a nasty temper, and I don't want either of you getting hurt."

"Understood." Gwen clicked her ear-piece again, cutting off the signal. She smiled at Jack's careful praising of both their abilities, but did not fear for her safety. For now she would accept his advice about keeping hidden.


	16. Chapter 16

Story disclaimer: I own none of the following. Many of the references in this story are owed to the writers and the rest of the team(s) involved in the creation and production of Torchwood and Doctor Who. Without them, this story would not be possible. My character Teya owns me. I am making no money from this or any of my other fics posted on this site.

**Scene Sixteen – Cardiff, Present Day**

Teya drove as if possessed, her mind definitely not on the road or the other drivers around her. The scanner on the passenger seat was running a similar program to the one Ianto would soon be following. She knew well enough the ships used by her people, knew the cloaking technology. Though their homes were antiquated by human standards, Everlarth's were known for their space-faring vessels. They depended on off world trade for their survival, simply because there was too much in-fighting to exist on their own. Teya sighed as she remembered tedious trips to other worlds, listening to hours of negotiations over quantities and prices… Her father had been determined that she would learn everything she needed in order to run her territory. Had her life on her home-world come to something, she supposed that it might have been useful…

She was brought back to the presence by the blaring of a horn, suddenly staring at a green light. She screeched the SUV over the line, determined to pay more attention to her current surroundings. No use dreaming of what was done, she needed to focus on the here and now. It would do her people no good if she got herself killed aimlessly in a car accident. With a glance at the scanner, followed by the sat nav, Teya swung a right at the next set of lights. She was getting further from the city centre and closer to an old, disused mining facility.

Gwen followed Teya's signal out to a quarry, the old mining tower a shadow against the Sun. She left her car some distance away; Gwen approached the main buildings with caution, gun in hand. Pulled up outside what was little more than the skeleton of a once glass-fronted porch was the SUV. Skid marks in the drive way leading up to the entrance were classic signs of Jack's arrogant driving. Gwen frowned to herself, tapping her earpiece. "Jack?"

"Gwen." She could hear the rumble of an engine over the comm, yet the SUV's engine was dead.

"Where are you?"

"We're about two miles from your position, and heading straight for you." Jack answered after checking with Ianto. "Looks like we took the roundabout route."

"We were following the UFO's flight path..." Ianto protested, a comic note to his voice, as Gwen approached the Torchwood SUV.

"But the SUV... is here." Even as Jack launched into an explanation, Gwen went to the rear of the SUV, where she spotted a crucial difference in the number plate. Instead of their own CF06 FDU, was Torchwood London's LN03 TWD. Gwen frowned to herself, focusing once more on what Jack was saying.

"No." Jack smiled, suddenly remembering the day Owen, Tosh and he had searched through the abandoned Torchwood Tower in London. "Teya stole a Torchwood London SUV after the battle of Canary Wharf. Should've known that would come back to bite me in the ass. She'll know by now that we've followed her."

"You want me to start a recon?" Gwen asked, already knowing what his answer would be.

"Stay put for now, we'll be there in a couple of minutes."

Sure enough, a couple of minutes later, the SUV came screeching round a corner, and Jack brought it to a stop suddenly, a little too close to Gwen's car for her liking. Jack and Ianto climbed out, Ianto already measuring the neutrino levels as he stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Gwen walked back a little way to greet them.

"So we're guessing that whoever these guys are, Teya's involved with them?" Ianto asked quietly, a sympathetic glance sent in Jack's direction.

"Perhaps." Jack was unwilling to admit even to himself that he could have been wrong about Teya. "She may have been oblivious as to their presence on Earth, until she overheard our discussion earlier. May have."

"But no guarantee." Gwen added her piece. "We need to proceed with caution. These aliens are killers, Jack, we know that for sure, but we don't know whether they're in league with Teya. We may have more than one enemy here."

"But then we might have a friend in there, Gwen." Jack was resolute in his determination to defend Teya it seemed.

He sent his two colleagues in through the front door, whilst he went round the back. It was their standard pattern these days, with him not exactly needing anyone to watch his back. He felt safer knowing Ianto and Gwen were together, protecting each other when he couldn't protect them. It was a comforting, yet somehow harsh thought, combining their friendship and loyalty whilst still acknowledging the gaping hole in their team. It was enough, Jack acknowledged, his heart wrenching at the betrayal of Tosh and Owens memories, if only just enough.

There were no alarm systems, not even CCTV that he could see. He walked through the deserted corridors, following the life signs on his vortex manipulator. Five Everlarths, one with a Torchwood tracer signal attached. Teya was here – as if the SUV out front hadn't been enough evidence of that. Jack continued towards the life-signs, his Webley loaded, cocked and preceding him all the way. As he approached the location of the Everlarths, Jack suddenly heard voices. He stopped, pushing his back against the wall, to listen.

Teya's heart was in her throat. They had found each other at last! Four of her father's men, his most trusted warriors… They were sat around a dying fire, warming their hands and talking in low voices when she had approached. Sensing her presence, one had looked up at her. He'd greeted her softly, warmly, but there was an edge to his voice that warned her all was not well. She'd greeted him in return, staying back from him despite her heart's yearning to rush and embrace him.

"Child." He came close to her, his movements graceful and masculine. His fingers raised her chin slightly. "You have grown. It is good to see you."

"Feroc." She breathed the name, staring at him, not daring to take her eyes from him in case he vanished as they so often had in her dreams. After a few moments, she transferred her gaze to the others, who had come to stand behind Feroc. "Leukon, Arkas, Dromak…" Arkas, the middle of the three, gave her a genuinely warm smile. He had always been one of her favourites. When she was a child, Arkas had often been given the task of minding Teya.

"Aranteya…" This was where Jack joined the conversation. Across the room, he caught the briefest glimpse of firelight reflected on metal, and he knew that Gwen and Ianto were there. Teya's eyes softened as she looked at her companions, and Jack was more convinced than ever that Teya had not been a part of the killings that had taken place in Cardiff, and that the aliens responsible for those same killings were also present. As if reading his thoughts, Teya's body stiffened again.

"We can't stay here, Feroc," Teya's voice, sounding fraught, "you have no idea how glad I am to see you, but Torchwood are on their way here, now. They would kill you if they could, or worse."

"Torchwood?" The voice was huskily male, presumably Feroc's. "What is Torchwood? You say the name like you fear it… you've become a coward, child?"

"Torchwood…" Jack heard Teya's hesitation, "he's here, or will be soon. He's ruthless, and you're killing in his neighbourhood."

Jack's heart broke with those words. At last, he understood exactly how accountable she held him for her time and torture in Torchwood London. No longer in her mind was Torchwood an organization, a group of people – to her, Jack was Torchwood. She had dismissed from her mind all other members, including Gwen and Ianto.

"No more." There was a self-satisfied tome if ever Jack had heard one. He heard footsteps, dared to peek around the corner to see a six foot six Everlarth pacing about Teya, studying her closely. To give the younger Everlarth her due, Teya was stood angrily, arms folded tightly across her chest, scowling at Feroc. "We have what we came for."

"And what was that?"

"You, little one." He smiled, his canine teeth sharp like a true vampyre's. "We came for you. Your father will be pleased that we have found you."

Teya gasped at Feroc's words. For the briefest moment that seemed to stretch into an eternity, Teya's breath was stolen from her. Her father lived? In all her fantasies, he lived still, yet she had never truly thought that it could be so. A beaming grin broke out on her face, stretching from ear to ear, and her eyes brimmed with shining tears. Her father lived. Her lands were safe, then? And her father's men had come here, to Earth, to fetch her home after all this time? She stepped forward to embrace her father's man, arms outstretched and welcoming.


	17. Chapter 17

Story disclaimer: I own none of the following. Many of the references in this story are owed to the writers and the rest of the team(s) involved in the creation and production of Torchwood and Doctor Who. Without them, this story would not be possible. My character Teya owns me. I am making no money from this or any of my other fics posted on this site.

Author's Note : So this is it. Last chapter. Can't believe it. Think I've covered every plot hole I created for myself. This was really hard work! Thanks for reading! Hmmm, don't think I've dedicated this story yet... Well, I guess it has to be for a friend I let down very very badly. So this is for you, as a thank you for everything you did for me, everything you taught me. I miss you, and hope some day you can forgive me x

**Scene Seventeen – Cardiff, Present Day**

All such warm and friendly thoughts were banished as Feroc snarled, reaching for her in a manner that was far from friendly. She saw that he was brandishing a knife, but as she twisted desperately away, Feroc jerked forward suddenly as another of the group threw himself onto the large Everlarth's back, Arkas's arm wrapping tightly about Feroc's neck. "'Ware treachery, my lady! He means you to die!" The rest of the Everlarths joined the fray, the two loyal to Feroc trying to pull the second Everlarth from their master's back. Leukon snatched the knife from Feroc's hand, to plunge it into his attackers back. The Everlarth shrieked in pain, but clung on like a ferocious dog to a bone, protecting his mistress to the last.

Jack only paused long enough to watch Teya's reaction to all this. She had twisted away from the first attack, her face dropping in shock. She turned back towards the fray, shouting in anger and hate as the stabbing occurred. She, too, launched herself into the fight, throwing a mean right hook tough enough to knock aside Leukon. The Everlarth's head connected with the floor with a crack that could be heard over the rest of the fight, making Jack wince in sympathy. Stunned, he lay staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. It was as she turned on Dromak that Jack stepped in, sniping three bullets into Feroc's chest. From the far side of the room, Ianto and Gwen also fired their weapons, both hitting Dromak in the back. Dromak shrieked in protest, falling alongside Feroc who was on his hands and knees. Arkas rolled away from Feroc, curling up in a ball, confident that these newcomers were friends.

"Jack!" Teya snapped the word, more with anger than with relief, as if he had intruded. Jack had no time to react, for Teya did not even pause to look at any member of the Torchwood team. She kicked Feroc in the side, causing the Everlarth to roll away from her and into Dromak. The two lay dying, and for a moment Teya watched them, conflicting emotions crossing her face. Then, with a blank face, she looked to Jack, arms spread wide. "You'll have to kill me too Jack, I won't go back to a life of imprisonment."

"Aranteya…" Arkas's voice was weak, but cut off anything Jack might have replied. While Ianto and Gwen covered the dying Everlarths, Teya crouched beside her dying friend.

"Hush, Arkas, save your strength. We are safe now."

"Your father asked… asked me to protect… you." She knew the truth of the matter in the way he said the words, that her father was dead. She swallowed deeply, unwilling to acknowledge the fact. "He warned you not… not to return… home… Things have changed so much at home, you have few friends there now…"

"I understand, Arkas." The words were quiet, subdued, all her dreams destroyed with that message. Never again would she walk the flush fields of crops, ride through the forests of her family's grounds… She gripped Arkas' hand between her own as if she could keep both him and her dreams alive by sheer will alone. The Everlarth died quietly and with dignity, his eyes never leaving Teya's. Teya remained quiet throughout, reaching out at the end to close Arkas' lifeless eyes. "Fare well, old friend. Tell my family I am safe in this world…"

She glanced at Jack, wondering if the message she had just sent to her family was a lie. Their eyes met, locking in a private moment between them, and she had her answer. Jack knelt beside Teya, placing an arm about her shoulders. For a moment, she stiffened, as if ready to push him away, but then she seemed to change her mind. Resistance fleeing her, Teya leant against Jack, feeling him shift in order to maintain their balance. They stayed like that, with Ianto and Gwen watching over them, for several minutes. With his support, his body warm beside hers as it always should have been…

The four of them left the building some time later, Jack's arm wrapped comfortably about Teya's shoulders. In turn, her arm rested about his waist. Both were aware of Ianto's jealous sideways glances, but neither was tempted to act on them. It was enough for both that they were together, as both felt they always had been.

"I never realised," Teya commented later as they were stood next to the great silver fountain, secreted from the world around by the invisible lift, "that my drinking from you had connected us. I see the world through your eyes so often, Jack… so much pain and suffering…"

"It's not all bad." Jack actually blushed as certain thoughts crossed his mind.

"I know." She touched his cheek gently, smiling with him. "And I'm glad. You deserve some happiness, Jack Harkness."

"So do you." He couldn't imagine what life had been like for her, running for so long from everything and nothing. Running from him… Jack tilted her chin up towards him, then frowned as she pulled away.

"Jack, don't." She glanced down at her feet, but he instinctively he knew that it was not embarrassment but a reminder of the two people that needed him. "They love you, Jack Harkness, more than that they know more about you than anyone else in the world."

"Except you."

"Except me." She agreed with a small smile.

"You could stay, you know, become part of the team."

"We both know I could never do that. Torchwood holds too many nightmares for me." She grinned mischievously. "Besides, I don't think Ianto would be too pleased."

"He'd deal." Jack shrugged, but he could not look at her, and the both knew he was lying. Instead, Jack reached out to pull her into a hug. She melded herself to his body, resting her head on his shoulder, enjoying the feel of him and how well they fit together. In that moment, it was as if nothing had ever come between them, so much so that Teya lifted her head to kiss him. She kissed him tentatively, afraid that he would deny her. On sensing his willing response, she kissed him as hungrily as she had the first time, lacing her fingers in his hair, an involuntary shiver running through her as his hands ran the length of her spine. She broke away reluctantly, unwilling to let him go, but knowing that she must.

Jack groaned softly as she pulled away, unsure whether the regret he was feeling was at the kiss or at her breaking it. When he finally found the courage to open his eyes, she was gazing at him with a soft, mellow smile, one that made Jack understand that he was, at last, forgiven for his betrayal. He returned the smile, taking her hands in his, as if he could keep her close forever that way. Yet he knew that any moment now, she would turn and walk away.

"Here." She pulled a hand away to dig something out of a pocket. She handed him a set of keys, the keys to her SUV. "You should have these back. It belongs to Torchwood, after all."

"Keep it." Jack smiled, curling her fingers around the keys gently. "You deserve it."

"I'll look you up if ever I'm in town." She offered the words with a sense of finality, and Jack was sure she would never return to Cardiff. It was too painful for him, for both of them. He leant forward to kiss her again, one last time, to which she submitted for a few brief seconds, before pulling away. "Goodbye, Jack." He opened his mouth to return the farewell, but no sound came out. She smiled one last wobbly smile, before turning away and walking to her SUV. Jack watched her go, wondering if it were possible for him to die of heart ache, stayed staring at the spot where the SUV had been parked long after she had driven away. With a sigh, he finally lifted his wrist and pressed the button on his vortex manipulator to make the lift descend back into the Hub.

(Roll credits…)


End file.
